7^ 


!• :-:  I 


ILLIA.^- ARTHUR >»  ^v 

:th-duke-qfportl.\v:  * 


■  Tf.i'        - 


LETTERS    OF 
GEORGE    MEREDITH 


»' 


LETTERS  OF 
GEORGE  MEREDITH 


COLLECTED    AND    EDITED    BY 

HIS    SON 


IN    TWO    VOLUMES 


VOL.    I 

1844-1881 


SECOND    EDITION 


LONDON 
CONSTABLE    AND    COMPANY    LTD 

1912 


Edinburgh    T.  an<l  A.  Cokstablb.  Printers  to  His  Majesty 


PR 

5013 

A3 

V.l 


PREFACE 

TnE  Letters  of  George  Meredith  here  brought  together 
have  baen  printed  first  and  foremost  for  his  friends,  and 
this  fact  must  explain  whatsoever  may  appear  illogical, 
superfluous,  and  maybe  obscure  in  this  book.  The 
collection  is  not  meant  to  form  a  narrative  of  his  life, 
nor  indeed  does  it  profess  to  be  complete.  Many  of  his 
intimate  friends,  and  a  large  number  of  his  letters  to 
them,  do  not  for  various  reasons  appear  at  all  here. 
Very  few  letters,  for  instance,  of  the  many  written 
to  Cotter  Mori  son  are  available,  the  majority  having 
been  most  unfortunately  destroyed.  Those  written  to 
Lionel  Robinson,  to  Stephen  Hamilton,  and  to  Maurice 
Fitzgerald,  if  any  indeed  exist,  are  inaccessible,  and  few 
letters  to  Arthur  Cecil  Blunt  and  many  others  can  be 
found.  To  the  friends  of  his  later  years  his  letters 
were  always  rare :  thus  none  appear  to  Lord  Haldane, 
though  a  frequent  visitor  to  Flint  Cottage,  and  hardly 
any  exist  to  John  Deverell,  a  friend  of  long  standing 
and  one  of  his  executors,  or  to  Colonel  and  Mrs.  Lewin. 
Many  a  close  friendship  indeed  does  not  appear  at 
all  in  these  volumes,  and  I  wish  for  this  reason  to 
note  here  one  or  two  among  them.  My  father's 
obligations,  for  instance,  to  Miss  Louisa  and  Miss  Mary 
Lawrence  were  very  great :   their    home    in  Whitehall 


vi  LETTERS  OF  GEORGE  MEREDITH 

Place,  the  rendezvous  of  many  people  eminent  in  litera- 
ture and  science,  was  always  open  to  him.  The  same 
is  true  in  regard  to  IVIrs.  Drummond  of  Fredley,  JMr. 
and  Mrs.  Frederick  Jameson,  and  Mr.  and  INIrs.  H.  G. 
Plimmer,  at  whose  house  many  of  his  happiest  later 
days  were  spent.  Very  gratefully  to  be  remembered 
are  Mrs.  Christopher  Wilson  and  Sir  Trevor  and  Lady 
Lawrence. 

I  have  further  to  express  my  sincere  thanks  to  all 
those  who  have  so  readily  placed  at  my  disposition 
the  bulk  of  the  letters  printed  in  these  volumes.  To 
my  friends  J.  M.  Barrie,  Thomas  Seccombe,  and 
Edward  Hutton  I  am  indebted  for  much  advice  and 
assistance. 

W.  M.  M. 


1912. 


LIST    OF   ILLUSTRATIONS 

GEORGE  MEREDITH  AT  THE  AGE  OF  THREE  YEARS 

Froiitisjjiece^  Vol.  I. 

GEORGE  MEREDITH  AND  HIS  SON  ARTHUR        .      To  face  page     79 

ARTHUR    G.    MEREDITH,    BY    DANTE     GABRIEL 

ROSSETTI .  .  .  .  .         „  „      136 

GEORGE   MEREDITH   AT  THE   AGE    OF   EIGHTY 

Front isj/iece,  Vol.  II. 


LETTERS  OF  GEORaE  MEREDITH 


The  first  ancestor  of  George  Meredith  of  whom  we  have 
any  record,  his  great-grandfather  John  Meredith,  was  hving 
in  Portsea  in  the  middle  of  the  eighteenth  century,  and  there 
in  the  parish  church,  his  son  Melchizedek  (or  Melchisedec,  the 
name  is  variously  spelt)  was  baptized  in  June  1763. 

Melchizedek  Meredith  early  in  life  became  a  tailor  and 
naval  outfitter,  his  shop  being  at  No.  73  High  Street,  Ports- 
mouth. He  was  a  remarkable  and  a  very  handsome  man, 
and  his  business  soon  became  the  leading  one  of  its  kind 
in  the  great  naval  port.^  But  his  ambitions  were  not  limited 
to  his  shop  :  he  was  on  friendly  terms  with  many  of  his  cus- 
tomers, who  probably  included  all  the  famous  sailors  of  that 
great  period,  and  was  a  welcome  guest  in  some  of  the  best 
houses  of  the  neighbourhood.  While  still  quite  a  young 
man  he  had  married  a  woman  as  remarkable,  it  would  seem, 
as  himself  :  her  name,  her  Christian  name,  for  we  are  at 
present  ignorant  of  her  family,  which  belonged  to  the  pro- 
fessional class,  was  Anne  ;  she  was  ten  years  older  than  her 
husband,  but  like  him  tall  and  very  handsome.  They  were, 
in  fact,  a  notable  couple.  In  '  The  Great  Mel '  and  Mrs.  Mel 
of  Evan  Harrington  we  have  their  portraits,  the  only  literal 
family  portraits,  let  it  be  noted,  in  the  book. 

Melchizedek  Meredith,  whose  fine  presence  and  manners 
won  him  universal  popularity,  especially  with  women,  was 
used  to  take  his  pleasures  abroad,  it  would  appear,  to  the 

1  It  is  referred  to  by  Captain  Marryat  in  Peter  Simple,  vol.  ii. 
chap.  vi. :  '  We  called  at  Meredith's  the  Tailor,  and  he  promised  that 
by  the  next  morning  we  should  be  fitted  complete.' 

VOL.  I. — A 


2  LETTERS  OF  GEORGE  MEREDITH 

neglect  of  his  business  and  his  family,  especially  in  his  later 
years.  He  kept  horses  and  hunted,  was  a  member  of  a  local 
Freemasons'  lodge,  and  joined  the  Portsmouth  Yeomanry 
in  the  capacity  of  an  ofificer  at  the  time  of  the  threatened 
invasion  of  Napoleon.  In  1801,  and  again  in  1803-4,  he  was 
a  churchwarden  of  his  parish  church  of  St.  Thomas,  to  which 
in  the  latter  year  he  and  his  fellow-warden  presented  a  set  of 
silver  plate. 

In  1814  Melchizedek  died,  leaving  behind  him  a  large  family, 
of  which  those  who  chiefly  interest  us  are  :  his  eldest  son 
Augustus,  who  succeeded  him  in  the  business,  and  four 
daughters — all  beautiful  girls — Anne  Eliza,  who  in  1809 
married  Thomas  Burbey,  a  Portsmouth  banker ;  Louisa,  who 
in  1811  married  John  Read,  Consul-General  for  the  Azores, 
later  a  knight  of  the  Portuguese  Order  of  the  Tower  and 
Sword  ;  Harriet,  who  in  the  same  year  married  John  Hellyer,  a 
brewer ;  and  Catherine  Matilda,  who  in  1819  married  Samuel 
Burdon  ElliS;  then  a  lieutenant  in  the  Royal  Marines,  and 
who  later  became  General  and  Knight  Commander  of  the 
Order  of  the  Bath. 

Augustus  Armstrong  Meredith  was  born  in  1797  and 
christened  Gustavo  Urmston,  which  was  later  changed,  and 
the  change  is  noted  in  the  register,  to  Augustus  Armstrong. 
He  seems  to  have  been  somewhat  wild  and  extravagant  and, 
though  he  had  business  ability,  to  have  spent  money  faster 
than  he  made  it.  He  married  about  1824  Jane  (EHza) 
Macnamara,  daughter  of  Michael  Macnamara  of  The  Point, 
Portsmouth.  The  only  child  of  this  marriage  was  George 
Meredith,  born  February  12,  1828,  at  73  High  Street, 
Portsmouth,  and  baptized  on  April  9th  in  the  church  of 
St.  Thomas,  seven  months  before  the  death  of  his  grand- 
mother. 

Mrs.  Augustus  Meredith  died  when  her  son  was  five  years 
old ;  and  the  business  having  apparently  gone  to  pieces  after 
the  death  of  Mrs.  Mel,  Augustus,  at  some  time  after  1837, 
migrated  to  London,  where,  however,  he  was  no  more 
successful  than  he  had  been  in  Portsmouth,  and  later 
proceeded  to  the  Cape,  whence  he  returned   to  spend  the 


LETTERS  OF  GEORGE  MEREDITH  3 

last  ten  years  or  so  of  his  life  in  Southsea,  where  he  died 
in  1876. 

The  young  George  Meredith,  on  his  father's  departure  for 
London,  remained  in  Portsmouth,  where  he  went  to  school. 
His  mother's  small  fortune  was  left  in  the  hands  of  trustees 
for  him.  Later  he  became  a  ward  in  Chancery,  the  trust- 
money  having,  for  the  most  part,  disappeared.  His  chief 
recollection  of  this  time  seems  to  have  been  the  three  dreary 
church  services  he  attended  on  Sunday,  when,  during  the 
sermon,  he  would  invent  tales  in  the  manner  of  St.  George 
and  the  Dragon,  or  of  the  kind  found  in  the  Arabian  Nights, 
of  which  he  was  very  fond,  and  which  came  to  such  fruition 
later  in  the  Shaving  of  Shagpat.  At  the  school  in  Ports- 
mouth he  learned,  he  said,  little  or  nothing,  and  it  was  not 
till  at  the  age  of  fourteen  he  was  sent  to  Neuwied  that  his 
education,  at  any  rate  his  literary  education,  may  be  said 
to  have  begun. 

The  Moravian  school  at  Neuwied,  on  the  Rhine,  near 
Cologne,  was  founded  in  1756.  In  the  first  jSfty  years  of  its 
existence  its  pupils  for  the  most  part  came  from  Switzerland. 
Later  many  German  boys  entered  the  school,  but  the  years 
from  1831  to  1842  are  known  in  the  school  as  the  English 
period,  nearly  a  hundred  and  fifty  English  boys  being  sent 
to  the  school  in  that  decade.  Among  them  was  George 
Meredith,  who  entered  the  school  on  August  18,  1842.  He 
remained  there  without  returning  home  for  two  years,  and 
from  this  time  we  may  date  his  first  and  most  vivid  and 
lasting  impressions  of  the  Rhine,  which  bore  fruit  later  in 
Farina.  The  religious  influence  of  the  place  upon  his  young 
mind  would  seem  to  have  been,  as  indeed  he  confessed, 
profound,  to  which  the  following  letter  bears  witness. 

A  *  Leaving  Letter  '  written  to  a  Schoolfellow 

To  R.  M.  Hill. 

Neuwied,  July  8,  1844. 

My  dear  Hill, — During  the  time  that  we  Ve  lived 
together,  one  feeling,  whether  in  union,  or  shall  I  say 


4  LETTERS  OF  GEORGE  MEREDITH 

enmity,  no  that  is  too  harsh,  has  agitated  our  respective 
bosoms.  It  is  fellowship.  0  may  God  grant  that  all 
may  have  the  same  feeling  towards  you  to  make  your 
life  happy.  But  true  fellowship  is  not  to  be  liad  without 
Christianity  ;  not  the  name  but  the  practice  of  it.  I  wish 
you  the  greatest  of  all  things  '  God's  blessing,'  which 
comprehends  all  I  would  or  could  otherwise  say. — Yours, 

George  Meredith. 

It  was  at  the  age  of  sixteen,  upon  January  7,  1844,  that 
Meredith  left  school,  returned  to  London,  and  in  due  course 
was  articled  to  Mr.  R.  S.  Charnock,  F.S.A.,  a  solicitor  with 
chambers  at  10  Godliman  Street,  E.G.  For  the  law  he  had 
no  taste,  his  income  was  very  small  and  irregular,  and  he 
frequently  lived  at  this  time  on  a  single  bowl  of  porridge  a 
day  ;  reading  widely  in  the  classics,  and  giving  himself  to 
the  study  of  German  literature.  Long  walks  through  the 
market  gardens  of  Chelsea  into  Surrey  and  Middlesex  were 
his  recreation.  To  Literature  as  a  career  he  turned  naturally, 
seeing  in  it  the  means  for  the  expression  of  his  love  of  nature, 
his  philosophy  of  life,  and  perhaps — though  this  weighed 
least  with  him — a  source  of  livelihood.  Charnock  was  not 
only  an  antiquary,  he  was  also  a  man  of  literary  tastes  and 
gifts,  and  his  circle  of  friends  included  many  of  the  young 
writers  and  artists  of  the  time.  Largely  under  his  auspices 
there  was  started,  by  a  little  literary  coterie  about  the  year 
1848,  a  MS.  magazine  named  the  Monthly  Observer,  to  which 
articles  and  drawings  were  contributed.  Each  member  of 
the  society  interested  in  it  took  his  or  her  turn  as  editor,  and 
each  number  was  circulated  among  the  members  for  criticism. 
Among  the  contributors  to  this  magazine  were  Austin  Daniel, 
Hilaire  de  Ste.  Croix,  R.  G.  Snell,  R.  S.  Charnock,  Edward 
Peacock,  and  his  sister  Mrs.  Nicolls,  son  and  daughter  of 
Thomas  Love  Peacock.  It  was  in  the  Monthly  Observer  that 
George  Meredith's  first  published  poem  '  Chillianwallah ' 
appeared  in  manuscript  in  1849,  and  in  the  same  year  was 
printed  in  Chambers' a  Journal  (July  7). 


LETTERS  OF  GEORGE  MEREDITH  5 

At  Edward  Peacock's  rooms  in  London  George  Meredith 
was  a  frequent  visitor,  and  it  was  as  his  guest  that  he  first 
met  Peacock's  sister,  Mrs.  Mary  Ellen  Nicolls,  widow  of 
Lieutenant  Edward  Nicolls,  who  commanded  H.M.S.  Dwarf 
and  was  lost  at  sea  with  his  ship.  Mrs.  Nicolls  was  a  woman 
of  considerable  beauty,  great  intelligence,  some  literary 
achievement,  and  brilliant  and  irrepressible  wit.  She  had 
one  child,  Edith.  George  Meredith  when  he  first  met  her 
was  but  twenty-one  years  of  age  ;  he  was  very  poor,  he  had 
finally  cut  himself  adrift  from  the  law,  and  it  is  doubtful 
whether  he  had  kept  in  touch  with  his  family  ;  certainly  he 
did  not  look  to  them  for  assistance.  On  August  9,  1849, 
Meredith  and  Mrs.  Nicolls  were  married. 

The  next  few  years  were  spent  chiefly  on  the  Continent 
at  the  expense  of  a  small  legacy  from  a  Portsmouth  relative. 
On  his  return  to  England,  journalism,  poetry,  the  SJiaving  of 
Shagpat  and  the  planning  of  Richard  Fever  el  occupied  his  time. 
He  and  his  wife  had  no  settled  home.  For  some  time  they 
boarded  at  The  Limes,  Weybridge,  the  house  of  Mrs.  Macirone, 
a  woman  of  considerable  culture.  There  they  met  Frith  the 
artist,  who  was  also  boarding  there,  and  there  Meredith  made 
many  of  his  early  literary  friends,  among  them  Sir  Alexander 
and  Lady  DufE  Gordon  and  their  children,  who  were  then 
lodging  in  another  cottage  hard  by,  and  to  whom  he  was 
introduced  by  Tom  Taylor.     Here  too  he  met  R.  H.  Home. 

To  R.  H.  Horne.^ 

To  R.  H.  H.  WITH  Daphne  ^ 

That  you  will  take  the  meaning  of  this  verse 
I  know,  deep-hearted  friend  and  earnest  man. 
Poet !  and  thro'  the  simple  picture  see 
The  winged  fancy  rising  from  the  flower  ! 

1  Richard  Henry  [or  Hengist]  Home,  1803-1884,  journalist,  friend 
and  correspondent  of  Mrs.  Browning,  and  author  of  Orion  (18-13), 
critical  essays  entitled  A  New  Spirit  of  the  Age  (1844),  etc. 

*  'Daphne,'  first  published  in  Poe/ns,  1851. 


6  LETTERS  OF  GEORGE  MEREDITH 

Too  delicate  for  me  to  touch,  or  do 
Aught  but  suggest ;   send  forth  as  Nature  sends 
The  unfettered  insects  fluttering  with  deHght 
Thro'  the  long  warm  blue  summer's  day  and  folded 
At  eve  behind  some  rainy  leaf,  while  the  woods 
Sing  wet  with  Tempest — On  its  wings  alone 
Let  it  depend  when  once  the  warm-fingered  sun 
Has  touched  it  into  life — Enough  for  me 
To  paint  the  flower  in  all  its  natural  hues 
And  plant  it ;  this  done,  its  fate  is  with  the  sky. 
But  you  will  know  how  in  these  after  days. 
First  love  still  follows  the  fair,  fleeting  shape  ! 
From  the  flush'd  morning  wave  and  woodland  valley 
Urging  its  wild  pursuit,  still  in  vain 
Swift  Nature  lends  her  forces,  still  in  vain 
The  old  prophetic  trees  wave  overhead — 
Ah  !  happy  he  whose  last  inspired  desire 
Conquering  its  anguish  shall  have  power  to  pluck 
The  never-fading  laurel !     Round  his  brows 
Sweet  Beauty  hovers  and  a  dawning  gleam 
Wakes  ever  on  the  leaves,  for  they  are  steep 'd 
I'  the  springs  of  day,  and  therefore  do  we  mark 
This  strange  foreshadowed  crown  of  poet  love, 
The  crown  of  poet  passion.     Thus  to  you 
I  dedicate,  and  in  your  hands  I  place 
Daphne,  the  darling  of  my  own  first  love. 
So  take  her,  part  in  friendsliip,  but  indeed 
Chiefly  a  tribute  to  the  noble  lyre 
Which  sang  of  the  giant  bright  whose  starry  limbs 
Still  scale  the  midnight  Heavens  and  plant  aloft        * 
Heroic  footsteps  up  untravelled  space  ! 
Live  long  and  wear  that  constellated  wreath. 

Later  Meredith  and  his  wife  were  at  other  lodgings  in  Wey- 
bridge,  in  Felixstowe,  and  very  frequently  at  Seaford,  near 


LETTERS  OF  GEORGE  MEREDITH  1 

their  friends  the  brothers  Fitzgerald.  It  was,  however,  at 
the  house  of  Thomas  Love  Peacock  ^  at  Lower  HaUiford,  on 
June  11,  1853,  that  a  son  was  bom  to  them,  whom  they 
named  Arthur  Gryffydd. 

Two  highly  strung  temperaments— man  and  wife — each 
imaginative,  emotional,  quick  to  anger,  cuttingly  satirical  in 
dispute,  each  an  incomparable  wielder  of  the  rapier  of  ridicule, 
could  not  find  domestic  content  within  the  narrow  bounds  of 
poverty  and  lodgings.  In  1858  came  catastrophe,  with  the 
result  that  George  Meredith  with  his  infant  boy  went  to  live 
in  London,  thence  to  a  cottage  in  Esher  village,  and  later 
to  Copsham  Cottage,  between  Esher  and  Oxshott.  Mrs.  Mere- 
dith returned  to  Weybridge,  where  she  died  at  Grotto  Cottage, 
Oatlands  Park,  in  1861. 


To  John  W.  Parker^ 

Weybridge,  Dec.  12,  1850. 
My  dear  Sir, — I  send  you  a  Selection  of  Poems  com- 
pleted, and  a  List  of  others  from  which  I  intend  selecting 
for  the  projected  volume.  Of  the  latter  I  prize  the 
'  Cassandra  '  ^  as  my  best  work,  but  it  is  not  yet  finished. 
The  'Shipwreck  of  Idomeneus  '  is  blank  verse  and  17 
pages.  The  rest,  with  exception  of  one  or  two  of  the 
ballads,  are  ready.  Of  the  Poems  I  forward  you,  I  wish 
to  have  your  opinion  as  early  as  you  can  give  it.  If  you 
think  the  specimens  I  forward  you  inferior  to  the  require- 
ments of  the  age,  '  not  saleable  '  and  so  forth,  I  shall  very 
likely  be  content  to  abide  by  your  decision  for  a  time. 
Mr.  Home  speaks  very  favourably  of  those  he  has  seen, 
but  he  has  only  seen  the  classical  Poem  and  a  few  others, 

^  Thero  are  no  letters  to  be  found  from  or  to  Thomas  Love  Peacock, 
but,  though  George  Meredith  did  not  meet  him  until  almost  im- 
mediately before  his  marriage  with  Mrs.  NicoUs,  warm  friendship, 
and  on  George  Meredith's  part  admiration,  existed  between  them. 

*  Of  John  W.  Parker  and  Son,  booksellers  and  publishers, West  Strand, 
London. 

»  '  Cassandra '  did  not  appear  in  this  volume,  but  in  Modem  Love,  1862. 


8  LETTERS  OF  GEORGE  MEREDITH 

and  consequently  insists  on  Ballads  and  modern  in- 
gredients which  I  have  endeavoured  since  then  to  supply. 
'  Sorrows  and  Joys/  '  The  Two  Blackbirds/  '  Infancy  and 
Age  '  1  are  a  selection  from  those  published  in  '  Household 
Words.'  The  two  '  blanlv  verse  metres  '  beginning  '  How 
sweet  on  sunny  afternoons  '  are  selections  from  half  a 
dozen  of  the  sort,  and  will  be,  I  tliink,  the  most  original 
features  in  the  volume.  Also  '  London  by  LampUght ' 
has  two  or  more  numbers  to  follow  (but  shorter  ones),  if 
you  think  fit.  Besides  these  I  am  writing  a  Ballad  for 
Household  Words,  which  I  think  will  be  liked.  I  will  tell 
you  the  subject  when  I  see  you.  You  Avill  see  that  in 
the  rape  of  Aurora  I  have  followed  the  idea  of  Ariosto 
and  inserted  a  Uttle  mythology — the  union  of  the  Sun 
and  the  Dawn — and  in  '  Daphne  '  I  have  avoided  mention 
of  '  Dan  Cupid.'  I  have  other  '  Pictures  of  the  Rhine/ 
but  I  thought  six  enough. 

Thus  far  then  I  have  explained  the  Contents  of  the 
parcel,  which  as  soon  as  you  can  peruse,  do,  and  let  me 
know  your  opinions  thereon  and  thereafter,  when  I  wdll 
have  the  pleasure  of  calling  on  you  and  consulting  as  to 
the  birth  and  baptism  of  my  firstborn  of  the  Muse. 

To  Eyre  Crowe.^ 

Seai'oed,  Sussex. 

My  dear  Crowe, — Will  you  come  down  here  to  us 

^  Not  reprinted.  A  number  of  further  poema  in  Household  Words 
are  attributed  to  Meredith  by  Mr.  Matz  (T.P.'s  Weekly,  Feb.  17,  1911). 
Except  in  the  case  of  those  already  reprinted,  proof  is  only  forth- 
coming in  the  case  of  '  Monmouth  '  and  '  Infancy  and  Age.'  That  in 
the  case  of  many  contributions  to  Eouseltold  Words,  Meredith  lent  his 
help  to  Home  and  to  Wills,  as  well  as  to  his  wife,  there  is  little  doubt. 
That  the  influence  of  his  already  marked  style  should  bo  seen  is  not 
surprising  ;  readers  of  many  of  the  items  attributed  to  him  by  Mr. 
Matz  will,  however,  find  little  resemblance  to  the  work  of  Meredith 
even  in  his  very  early  youth. 

*  Eyre  Crowe,  A.R.A.,  born  1824,  son  of  Eyre  Evans  Crowe,  the 
iii^jtorian.     He  published  two  volumes  on  Thackeray. 


LETTERS  OF  GEORGE  MEREDITH  9 

to-morrow  ?  We  shall  be  glad  to  have  you.  Come  and 
stay  a  week.  The  weather  is  lovely.  The  heat  quite 
sweltering.  Come,  and  if  you  like,  bring  the  Boulogne 
Fish-fays  to  give  a  truthful  representation  of  nature. 
I  should  prefer  you  coming  now,  as  I  may  not  be  here 
much  longer,  and  the  presence  of  the  illustrious  Franc- 
boise(y)  is  desirable.  Mrs.  Meredith  joins  in  kind  regards. 
She  says  you  must  come  under  pain  of  her  displeasure. 
Come,  0  Crowe !  Here  is  fishing,  bathing,  rowing, 
saihng,  lounging,  running,  pic-nicing,  and  a  cook  who 
builds  a  basis  of  strength  to  make  us  equal  to  all  these 
superhuman  efforts.     So  Come  ! 

There  is  a  train  at  ten  a.m.  first  and  second  class,  the 
latter  costs  to  Newhaven  9s.  8d.  In  the  evening  there 
is  one  at  6  p.m.  with  a  Third  Class,  the  latter  being  5s.  lid. 
It  reaches  Newhaven  at  h  past  8.  From  Newhaven  to 
Seaford  is  a  walk  of  two  miles.  If  you  walk,  go  on  to 
the  Hotel  at  Newhaven,  anyone  will  direct  you  the 
way.  You  can  go  on  the  train.  I  may  perhaps  meet 
you  ;  but  on  second  thoughts  this  is  unlikely  as  I  may 
be  over  the  hills  at  a  pic-nic.  But  I  shall  be  at  home  by 
the  time  you  arrive.  Let  no  excuse  delay,  and  trust  me. 
— Anticipatingly  yours,  George  Meredith. 


To  Edward  Chapman.^ 

Seatord,  Sussex,  Dec.  15,  1856. 

My  dear  Mr.  Chapman, — WiU  you  send  me,  this  week, 
the  £25  for  which  I  made  application,  to  sum  the  £70 
requested  in  advance,  and  so  doing  oblige  your  faithful 
poet.  .  .  . 

I  remain  here,  as  I  can  work  better  than  elsewhere, 
though,  engaged   as  I  am,  the   dulness  is   something 

^  Of  Chapman  and  Hall,  publishers,  Piooadilly,  London. 


10  LETTERS  OF  GEORGE  MEREDITH 

frightful,  and  hangs  on  my  shoulders  like  Sinbad's  old 
man  of  the  Sea.  I  dream  of  Boltons,  I  promise  myseK 
a  visit  there  at  Christmas,  just  for  a  beguilement ;  but 
it  is  doubtful  if  I  shall  quit  hard  work  for  a  day,  tiU  the 
book  is  finished.  I  will  come  Manuscript  in  hand. 
TeU  INIrs.  Chapman  how  much  I  should  wish  to  see  her  ; 
and  Serious  Meta,  daughter  of  the  Sage  ;  also  froHcsome 
Florence  ;   not  forgetting  Reginald,  the  Roysterer. 

The  name  of  this  novel  is  to  be  '  The  Fair  Frankincense.' 
TeU  me  what  you  think  of  it  ? — There  are  to  be  two 
Prophets  in  the  book,  and  altogether  a  new  kind  of  villain  ; 
being  Humbug  active — a  great  gun  likely  to  make  a 
noise,  if  I  prime  him  properly. 

Have  you,  or  do  any  of  your  people  know  of,  a  book 
of  Hampshire  Dialect  ?  I  have  a  Sussex.  Ballads,  or 
Songs,  with  the  provinciaUsms  wiU  serve.  Perhaps 
Mr.  Frederick  Chapman  may  know  of  such  a  thing  ? 
Also  a  slang  Dictionary,  or  book  of  the  same  with  Gloss. 
And  if  you  have,  or  can  get  these,  will  you  forward  them 
by  post  ? 

IVIrs.  Meredith  is  stajdng  at  Blackheath.  Don't  wait 
to  send  by  her,  as  I  am  anxious  she  should  spend  Xmas 
in  town.  Dulness  wiU  put  out  the  wax  lights,  increase 
the  weight  of  the  pudding,  toughen  the  turkey,  make  lead 
of  the  beef,  turn  the  entire  feast  into  a  nightmare,  down 
here,  to  one  not  head  and  heel  at  work.  .  .  . 

I  am  glad  '  Aurora  Leigh  '  is  so  well  received.  I  have 
not  read  it,  but  the  extracts  promise.  Confirm  to  me 
the  news  of  Bailey's^  pension.  Will  that  £100  per  ann. 
chain  him  to  earth,  or  only  give  him  firmer  spring  into 
the  empyrean  !  I  should  like  to  spin  on  the  talk  ;  but 
the  paper  contracts,  and  the  Grave  Man  of  business 
frowns  already  at  four  pages  of  it.     So  farewell. 

^  Author  of  FcsUu. 


LETTERS  OF  GEORGE  MEREDITH  11 

To  W.  C.  Bennett.^ 

Seatord,  Sussex,  April  27,  1857. 

Sir, — I  have  to  thank  you  for  your  latest  volume  of 
poems  :  and  in  doing  so,  I  must  beg  your  excuse  for 
omitting  to  acknowledge  a  previous  single  piece  for- 
warded to  me,  and  which  I  discover  in  the  present  col- 
lection. It  is  usual  in  such  cases  to  say  what  we  do 
hke  ;  but  I  presume  a  sufficient  balance  in  you  to  hear 
both. 

I  like  your  songs,  and  baby-ballads  very  much.  I  like 
your  feeling  for  English  scenery,  and  remarkable  de- 
scriptive power.  I  do  not  like  your  idylls  (e.g.  the  '  Boat 
race  ')  because  both  the  form,  the  matter,  and  the  blank 
verse,  recall  Tennyson  so  strongly,  and  one  expects  more 
than  imitations  from  you.  By  the  way,  the  giving  of 
a  daughter  to  the  conqueror  in  a  Boat  race  is,  if  British, 
not  customary.  A  girl  might  give  herself  ;  but  for  a 
Papa  so  to  stipulate  imphes  unpleasant  paternal  con- 
tempt for  the  lover's  physique,  and  a  sort  of  calculation 
seldom  made,  I  fancy.     You  see  I  speak  freely. 

It  seems  to  me  that  your  taste  is  not  for  what  you 
succeed  in  best,  viz.  minute  description ;  and  there 
you  might  produce  a  first-rate  Dutch  home-story  in 
ten  eight-hne,  or  say,  six-line  verse  ;  but  I  am  passing 
my  boundary  in  affecting  to  advise,  and  must  honestly 
ask  you  to  pardon  me  for  the  impertinence. 

When  at  Weybridge  the  Merediths  first  made  the  acquaint- 
ance of  Sir  Alexander  and  Lady  Duff  Gordon,  and  their 
children,  Maurice,  Urania,  and  Janet ;  and  at  their  house  Tom 
Taylor,  Kmglake,  Mrs.  Norton,  J.  E.  Millais,  G.  F.  Watts, 

*  Author  of  many  volumes  of  verse  between  1850  and  1855.  A 
collected  edition  of  his  poems  appeared  in  18G2  in  Routlodge'a  '  British 
Poets.'  The  volume  here  acknowledged  would  appear  to  be  Queen 
Eleanor's  Vengeance  and  Oilier  Poems  (1857). 


12  LETTERS  OF  GEORGE  MEREDITH 

and  many  other  artists  and  men  of  letters  were  frequent 
visitors.^  When  Meredith  left  the  neighbourhood  Ins  friends 
lost  sight  of  him.  On  his  return  to  Esher  he  found  the 
Duff  Gordons  settled  between  Esher  and  Oxshott,  and  he 
himself  went,  soon  after,  to  Copsham  Cottage  close  by. 
Janet  Duff  Gordon  and  Edith  Nicolls  were  playfellows  at 
Weybridge,  and  tell  how,  as  small  children,  Meredith 
enthralled  them  by  wild  fairy-tales  which  he  spun  for  their 
edification.  In  so  far  as  Meredith  ever  drew  his  characters 
direct  from  life,  Janet  Duff  Gordon  was  his  model  for  Rose 
Jocelyn  in  Evan  Harrington,  whilst  her  father  and  mother 
are  pictured  as  Sir  Erank  and  Lady  Jocelyn. 

To  Miss  Janet  Duff  Gordon. 

Schubert's  Farewell  ^ 

The  Pines  are  darkly  swaying  : 

The  skies  are  ashen-grey  : 

I  mock  my  soul  delaying 

The  word  I  have  to  say. 

As  if  above  it  thundered 
That  we,  who  are  one  heart, 
Should  now  for  aye  be  sundered, 
My  passion  bids  me  part : 

I  dare  not  basely  languish, 

Nor  press  your  lips  to  mine  ; 

But  with  one  cry  of  anguish, 

My  darling  I  resign. 

Our  dreams  we  two  must  smother  : 
The  bitter  truth  is  here  : 

*  Soe  The  Fourth  Oeneration,  by  Janet  Ross  (London,  Constable  and 
Co.,  1912)  ;  also  the  name  author's  Three  Oenerationa  of  Erujliahwomcn 
(London,  John  Murray,  1888). 

*  Words  written  to  Schubert's  '  Addio '  and  given  to  Janet  Duff 
Gordon. 


LETTERS  OF  GEORGE  MEREDITH  13 

The  hand  is  for  another, 

Which  I  have  held  so  dear  ! 

To  pray  that  at  the  altar, 
You  may  be  bless'd  above, 
Ah,  help  me,  if  I  falter. 
And  keep  me  true  to  love  ! 

But  once,  but  once,  look  kindly — 

Once  clasp  me  with  your  spell : 

Let  joy  and  pain  meet  blindly, 

And  throb  our  dumb  Farewell. 

At  Copsham,  as  previously  at  Weybridge  and  Seaford,  a 
frequent  companion  was  Maurice  Fitzgerald,  who  owned 
property  at  the  latter  place.  lie  was  one  of  the  earliest  to 
recognise  Meredith's  powers.  Nephew  to  Edward  Fitzgerald, 
he  was  a  student  of  literature,  an  accomplished  classical 
scholar,  and  an  epicure.  He  is  suggested  by  Adrian  Harley 
in  Richard  Fcvcrel.  Sir  Francis  Burnand  in  his  Records  and 
Reminiscences  gives  an  interesting  description  of  Meredith 
as  he  first  met  him  in  company  with  Fitzgerald  at  Copsham. 

To  Miss  Janet  Duff  Gordon. 

'  Fitz  1  goes  about  with  a  volume  of  Francatelli  ^  in  his 
hand.     Thus  we  have  colloquized.' 

Fitz.  '  Oyster-soup  is  out  of  the  question,  with  cod  and 
oysters  to  follow.  It  must  be  brown.  But  if  the 
Veal  doesn't  come  from  Brighton  !  Good  G —  !  what 
a  set  of  heathens  these  people  are  !  ' 

Poet.  '  Eh  ?  Oh,  yes,  brown,  of  course  !  ' 

Fitz.  '  You  haven't  the  slightest  idea  of  the  difficulties.' 

Poet,  (mooning).  '  She  was  dressed  very  becomingly  in 
white  Sauce.' 

^  Maurice  Fitzgerald. 

*  Francatelli's  book  on  Cookory, 


14  LETTERS  OF  GEORGE  IMEREDITH 

FiTZ.  (taking  it  naturally).  '  A  la  Bechamel.  That 's  what 
I  'm  most  anxious  about.  Do  you  think  Ockendon 
understood  my  directions  ?  The  potatoes  to  be 
shced  about  half  an  inch  :  sauce  poured  over  :  then 
fresh  layer  ' — (becomes  excited)  '  if  well  done,  I  know 
nothing  better  in  the  world  than  Potatoes  k  la 
Bechamel !  ' 

Poet,  (writes).  'And  you  are  all  I  care  for  in  the  world, 
dearest  Rose  !  I  care  for  notliing  but  you  on  earth  1  ' 
(Answers  a  trebly  repeated  query)  '  Oh,  yes !  I  like 
Maintenon  cutlets  very  much.' 

FiTZ.  (rubbing  his  hands).  '  I  can  trust  to  old  Ockendon 
for  them,  thank  Heaven  !  ' 

Poet,  (getting  awake).  '  Your  wife  should  be  a  good 
cook,  Maurice  ?  ' 

FiTZ.  '  Well,  if  she  's  at  all  educated  and  civilized,  she 
will  be.' 

Poet.  '  I  know  a  marriageable  young  lady  who  hates 
potatoes,  doesn't  understand  a  particle  of  the  great 
science,  and  finishes  her  dinner  in  two  minutes.' 

Fitz.  '  Lord  help  the  man  who  marries  her  !  ' 

Poet.  '  I  think  he  '11  be  a  lucky  fellow.' 

Fitz.  '  No  accounting  for  tastes  ! '  (Pursues  the  theme.) 
'  The  pheasant  opposite  you.  I  '11  take  the  plovers. 
Ockendon  says  the  Jelly  has  set.  Fancy  your  not 
knowing  how  much  a  gill  is  ! — a  gill  and  a  half  of 
Maraschino.     I  think  the  Jelly  will  be  a  success.' 

Poet.  '  Upon  my  honour,  you  look  as  radiant  as  if  you 
had  just  touched  off  an  ode  !  ' 

Fitz.  '  We  won't  open  the  Champagne  till  the  2nd  course.' 

Poet.  '  I  stick  to  Claret. — Wliat  's  the  matter  ?  ' 

Fitz.  (impatiently).  '  I  have  asked  you  half  a  dozen  times 
whether  you  think  the  Ratafias  should  garnish  the 
Jelly  !  ' 

Poet,  (indifferently).  '  Just  as  you  like.'  (Writes)  '  But 
a  misfortune  now  befell  our  hero.' 


LETTERS  OF  GEORGE  MEREDITH  15 

FiTZ.  (with  melancholy).  '  I  've  given  up  all  hope  of  the 
plovers'  eggs  !  Heigho  ! '  (stretches  himself  in  a  chair 
in  a  state  of  absolute  mental  depression). 

Poet,  regarding  him,  takes  out  note-book  :  writes  : 
'  Life  is  a  thing  of  Circles,  hke  Dante's  Hell.  In  the 
narrowest  of  them  Despair  may  be  as  abysmal,  Hope 
as  great  as  in  the  widest !  The  patriot  who  sees  his 
country  enslaved  :  the  lover  who  wins  a  smile  from 
his  mistress  one  day,  and  hears  the  next  that  she 
has  bestowed  the  like  on  another  gentleman  :  these 
sorrow  not,  or  joy  not  more  violently  than  one  who 
is  deprived  of  plovers'  eggs,  expectant  of  them,  or 
greets  a  triumphant  dish  of  potatoes  a  la  Bechamel ! ' 

About  the  year  1858  Meredith  first  met  Frederick  Augustus 
Maxse  (1833-1900).  Captain  Maxse,  R.N.,  promoted  Eear- 
Admiral  in  1877,  was  the  second  son  of  James  Maxse  by 
his  marriage  with  Lady  Caroline  Fitzhardinge,  daughter  of 
the  fifth  Earl  of  Berkeley.  He  acted  as  naval  A.D.C.  to 
Lord  Raglan,  and  after  the  battle  of  the  Alma  displayed 
conspicuous  gallantry  in  carrying  despatches  from  the 
army  to  the  fleet.  Promoted  Commander  in  1855,  he 
retired  in  1867,  and  unsuccessfully  contested  Southampton 
in  the  Radical  interest  in  the  following  year.  During  tliis 
election  Meredith  canvassed  actively  for  him.  He  ^\as  also 
beaten  in  a  subsequent  contest  for  Middlesex  in  1874.  His 
Radical  tendencies  in  these  days  were  the  dual  outcome  of 
his  experiences  of  the  inept  unpreparedness  of  the  Govern- 
ment for  the  war  in  the  Crimea,  and  the  sufferings  wliich  he 
saw  and  shared  in  that  campaign.  In  later  life  he  was  a 
strong  Unionist. 


To  Captain  Maxse. 

CopsHAM  Cottage,  Eshee. 

My  dear  Captaest  Maxse, — I  have  been  struck  down 
by  illness,  and  did  not  receive  your  pamphlet  till  two 


16  LETTERS  OF  GEORGE  MEREDITH 

days  back.  I  have  been  happy  to  do  my  best  with  regard 
to  corrections. 

I  like  the  pamphlet.  It  goes  with  many  of  my  views, 
and  it  is  generous  :  a  point  on  which  I  lay  stress,  for  the 
popular  principle  is  avowed  seljBshness  and  breeches 
pocket,  or  bare  sentimentahsm,  in  dealing  with  foreign 
relations. 

I  do  not  Uke  the  colloquial  introduction.  '  J.  B.' 
and  the  *  West  End  '  are  in  my  opinion  beneath  the 
dignity  of  an  earnest  address  to  one's  countrymen.  I 
have  taken  the  Hberty  (for  which  I  beg  your  excuse)  to 
strike  out  one  or  two  sentences. 

But,  may  I  ask,  are  you  not  under  some  influence 
yonder  ?  Are  you  not  prompted  by  some  pecuUar  feeling 
— a  private  friendship  ?  The  sound  to  me,  throughout, 
is  that  of  one  whose  heart  was  moved  by  personal  esteem. 
I  mention  this,  because  I  think  it  will  be  a  general  im- 
pression ;  and  I  know  enough  of  the  French  to  be  aware 
that  some  of  them  rise  high  with  you  in  intimac}''. 

Anyhow  I  think  the  pamphlet  must  fail ;  for  what 
might  have  floated  \vill  sink  it.  It  says  true  and  preg- 
nant things  ;  but  have  you  forgotten  that  when  you  are 
putting  your  countrymen  and  friend  flagrantly  in  the 
wrong,  they  never  can  see  it  unless  you  consent  to  relieve 
their  eyes  with  the  shady  doings  of  the  opposite  party. 

You  have  not  toned  down  your  picture.  You  put  us 
in  the  wrong  entirely.  Even  I,  who  feel  mth  you,  enter- 
tained a  constant  protest  as  I  read  on. 

I  think  you  should  have  devoted  a  page  or  two  to  a 
consideration  of  the  sentiments  of  the  different  classes 
of  Frenchmen  towards  England  and  to  an  exposition  of 
the  French  character.  And  it  would  have  been  as  well 
to  have  made  an  attempt  philosophically  to  account  for 
these  epidemics  of  animosity  on  both  sides.  I  beheve 
that  on  ours  it  springs  solel}''  from  panic,  and  the  revul- 


LETTERS  OF  GEORGE  MEREDITH  17 

sions  of  humiliation  and  shame  attendant  thereon. 
Where  have  the  French  more  enthusiastic  admirers  of 
their  valour  ?  of  their  intellect  ?  of  their  wit  ?  I  think 
our  hands  are  given  heartily  across  Channel  till  this 
cursed  uneasiness  about  our  '  homes  '  makes  the  Briton 
draw  back  and  clench  his  honest  fist. 

Of  the  Emperor  I  strongly  approve  your  bold  speaking. 
He  has  done  great  work  and  shown  great-mindedness 
towards  us.  The  veil  of  the  '  Panic  '  is  between  us  and 
him  ;  but  even  should  he  become  our  foe,  the  Italian 
campaign  must  be  seen  in  its  true  features  sooner  or  later. 
It  is  worthy  an  Epic.  About  Savoy  our  singing  has  been 
small,  but  the  political  principle  involved  in  the  appro- 
priation of  this  province,  and  the  danger  to  Switzerland, 
justify  plain  speaking. — Pardon  me,  I  beg,  and  beheve 
me,  my  dear  Captain  Maxse,  yours  very  faithfully, 

George  Meredith. 

Verses  given  in  MS.  to  Miss  Janet  Duff  Gordon 
about  the  year  1859. 

We  sat  beneath  the  humming  pines  : 

We  knew  that  we  must  part, 
I  might  not  even  speak  by  signs 

The  motions  of  my  heart : 

And  as  I  took  your  hand,  and  gazed 

Subdued  into  your  eyes, 
I  saw  the  arm  of  Fate  upraised, — 

And  stiU'd  the  inward  cries  ; 

I  saw  that  this  could  never  be 

Which  I  had  dared  to  pray  : 
And  in  the  tear  that  fell  from  me. 

There  fell  my  hfe  that  day  ! 

VOL.  I. — B 


18  LETTERS  OF  GEORGE  MEREDITH 

Verses  given  in  MS.  to  Miss  Janet  Duff  Gordon 
about  the  year  1859  or  1860. 

The  waves  are  pressing  up  with  force, 

Along  the  screaming  shore  ; 
Like  Phantom  hosts  of  warrior  horse, 

They  charge,  beneath  the  roar. 

And  each  darts  out  a  foamy  tongue 

As  prone  he  falls,  and  dies  : 
The  dirge  of  many  a  soul  is  sung 

Beneath  yon  stormy  skies. 

And  may  it  be  my  dirge  of  dust, 

If  she  who  has  my  phght. 
If  she  I  love  shall  wreck  my  trust. 

And  wrap  my  soul  in  night. 

In  1860  Miss  Janet  Duflf  Gordon  became  engaged  to,  and 
in  December  of  the  same  year  married,  Henry  James  Ross, 
head  of  the  firm  of  Briggs  and  Co.,  bankers,  at  Alexandria.  Mr. 
Ross  took  part,  with  Layard,  in  the  excavation  of  Nineveh. 
He  also  wrote  a  book,  Letters  from  the  East,  1837-1857. 


To  Miss  Ja7iet  Duff  Gordon. 

COPSHAM,  ESHER. 

My  dear  Janet, — Yesterday  I  went  to  Town,  and  of 
course  forgot — not  you — but  your  catalogue.  I  there- 
fore called  on  Wyllis  and  What  's-his-name  and  asked 
the  latest  period  of  the  packing.  Thereupon  a  melancholy 
man  conducted  me  to  an  enormous  box.  '  That 's  choke 
full,  sir,  and  we  've  got  40  volumes  more  to  stow  in — 
somehow — /  don't  know  how.'  This  was  my  time  to  tell 
him  that  you  had  bought  half  of  Mudie's  library,  and 
expected  that  as  well  to  be  got  into  the  said  box. — ^^^ly, 


LETTERS  OF  GEORGE  MEREDITH  19 

wouldn't  my  Henry  do  it  ? — Yes,  but,  my  dear  Janet, 
Willis  and  What  's-his-name  aren't  in  love  with  you,  and 
they  can't.  Passion  does  not  inspire  them.  As  for  your 
poet,  he  sinks  to  the  lowest  depths  of  prose,  and  suggests 
the  necessity  for  a  fresh  box,  a  small  one,  in  addition  to 
the  one  of  elephantine  proportions  and  yet  unequal 
stomach.  You  are  to  write  to  me,  and  say  that  you 
consent  to  this,  and  I  will  call  on  W.  &  W. — If  this  is 
clear,  all  right.     But  I  feel  utterly  perplexed. 

I  have  been,  and  am,  knocked  down  again  by  the  old 
iUness.     I  hope  it  won't  last,  for  it 's  horridly  dispiriting. 

God  bless  you,  my  dear  girl !  If  you  don't  make  a 
good  wife,  I  've  never  read  a  page  of  woman.  He  's  a 
lucky  fellow  to  get  you,  and  the  best  thing  he  can  do  is 
to  pray  he  may  always  know  his  luck.  Watts  &  Coutts  ^ 
passed  Hke  doleful  spectres  this  afternoon,  in  the  fog. 
The  hunt  is  Queenless  evermore  ? 

Arthur  '  hopes  you  're  quite  weU.'  He  can't  think  of 
anything  more  to  say,  and  on  my  telling  him  I  've  written 
so,  he  explodes  with  laughter. 

Verses  given  in  31 S.  to  Miss  Janet  Duff  Gordon. 
Lied  von  Rastrelli 

Deep,  deep,  under  the  sea, 

Pearls  throw  their  soft  Hghts  uselessly  : 

Hear  the  wave  wander. 

Hither  and  yonder  : 
Deep,  deep,  under  the  sea. 

High,  high,  thro'  the  bright  spheres. 

Music  there  is  no  mortal  hears  : 

{(yr,  Harps  of  the  Angels  thrill  heavenly  ears)  : 

^  Coutts,  huntsman  of  tho  Due  crAumalcs  harriers. 


20  LETTERS  OF  GEORGE  MEREDITH 

Love's  divine  chorus, 
Passes  dead  o'er  us  : 
High,  high,  thro'  the  bright  spheres. 

Dark,  dark,  here  in  my  breast 
Treasures  and  harpstrings  idly  rest : 
All  my  life  lingers 
Dumb  for  thy  fingers  : 
Dark,  dark,  here  in  my  breast. 


To  F.  Evans.'^ 

Copsiia:^!  Cottage,  Esher,  Jan.  21,  1860. 

My  dear  Sir, — I  thank  you  for  the  £50  cheque  on  acct. 

I  tried  to  call  on  you  yesterday,  when  I  was  in  Town, 
but  had  no  time.  Perhaps  you  may  as  well,  since  you 
kindly  undertake  the  task,  write  to  Messrs.  Harper's 
agents,  or  send  to  them,  and  come  to  the  best  terms  you 
can.  The  story  *  (as  you  may  tell  them)  will  suit  Yankee 
sentiment  and  Yankee  principles.  Exalt  me  tolerably, 
and  in  fine,  I  shall  be  quite  satisfied  that  you  will  arrange 
it  as  well  as  it  can  be  done  :  but  there  should  be  no  loss  of 
time. 

N.B. — Perhaps,  should  it  be  needful,  you  may  say 
that  we  are  going  to  be  guilty  of  no  impropriety  in  this 
tale,  and  will  never  again  offend  young  maids. ^ 

To  Miss  Janet  Duff  Gordon. 

COPSHAM,  ESHEE,  1860. 

My  dear  Orange  Blossom, — I "*  has  been  at  me, 

1  Of  Bradbury,  Evans  and  Co.,  proprietors  of  Once  a  Week  and  Punch, 
now  Bradbury,  Agnew  and  Co.  '  Dear  old  Pator '  Evans,  Meredith 
used  to  call  him.  *  Evan  Harrington. 

*  Richard  Feverei  had  been  banned  as  '  immoral  '  and  preached 
against  from  tlio  pulpit — a  fact  wliich,  in  the  'sixties,  did  not  stimulate 
the  sale  of  fiction.  *  The  Esher  doctor. 


LETTERS  OF  GEORGE  MEREDITH  21 

and  with  the  best  intentions  in  the  world,  no  doubt,  but 
on  the  Earth  I  lie,  and  imagination  will  picture  the  idea 
that  I  am  going  under  it.  Here  is  a  cheerful  theme  to 
address  to  a  sweet  young  bride  !  But  if  I  am  not  better 
by  Saturday  I  shall  not  witness  the  wreath  on  my 
Janet's  head,  nor  see  the  fixing  of  the  ring  on  her 
hand.  .  .  . 

I  am  distressed  to  hear  such  bad  accounts  of  my  dear 
Lady  Gordon.     Come  I  will,  if  I  can,  but  I  am  horribly 

unwell.     (There  's  a  rumour  of  the  eldest  C girl  going 

to  marry.  .  .  .  ) — Your  affectionate  and  faithful 

George  Meredith. 


To  Mrs.  Janet  Ross. 

ESHER. 

My  dear  Janet, — A  thousand  thanks  for  the  photo  : 
it  is  a  good  and  fitting  present  at  this  awful  instant.  It 
admirably  represents  the  occasion.  Looking  on  it,  I  see 
the  corpse  of  the  Maiden  Janet.  Just  what  she  may 
henceforth  give  of  herself,  and  no  more.  It  isn't  bad, 
it 's  pleasant  to  have,  but  it 's  Janet  washed  out  and 
decorated  with  soot.  Behind  it  hes  her  free  youth. 
She  looks  darkly  forward  on  the  children  of  Egypt.  It 's 
Janet  half  Copt  already. 

How  do  you  feel  ?  Do  write  down  half  a  page  of  your 
sensations,  and  hand  them  to  me,  under  seal,  with 
directions  that  I  may  read  them  a  year  hence  and  com- 
pare with  results.  Not  that  you  're  romantic,  and  I 
don't  suppose  you  flutter  vastly  just  when  you  're  caught, 
but  still,  dear  Orange  Blossom,  you  're  a  bit  of  a  bird, 
like  the  rest. 

By  the  way,  why  am  I  to  have  the  photo  of  Janet 
as  wife,  while  Arthur  takes  the  maiden  ? 

Of  coursse  I  '11  send  out  my  books  and  my  poems  to  my 


22  LETTERS  OF  GEORGE  MEREDITH 

best  public.  Unless  I  do  them  horridly,  and  I  must  soon 
get  stronger,  or  I  shall. 

If  I  can  come,  as  I  trust  to,  I  must  return  on  Wednes- 
day. I  have  all  the  writing  on  a  paper  now  on  my 
shoulders.  Thursday  is  contribution  day.  I  shall  return 
and  spend  a  week  with  your  mother  later,  when  she  is 
alone,  and  may  want  me. 

And  now,  my  dear,  my  future  Copt,  and  my  good 
friend  forever,  as  I  hope,  farewell,  till  we  meet.  I  pray 
fervently  you  may  be  happy. 

I  think  of  leaving  Copsham,  to  live  in  two  small  town 
rooms,  that  I  may  save  for  Arthur's  education.  The 
safest  address  to  me  from  Egypt  wiU  be  Chapman  & 
Hall's,  193  PiccadiUy. 


To  8.  Lucas.^ 

ESHEB. 

My  dear  Lucas, — You  sent  proofs  of  the  first  story 
(The  Highwayman),  but,  if  I  haven't  returned  them,  I 
have  mislaid  them.  Send  proofs  of  the  second  story  at 
once,  as  I  have  now  time  to  finish  it.  By  the  way,  I  don't 
think  your  common  pay  should  extend  to  me,  and  you 
are  bound  to  heighten  the  scale.  If  you  do,  I  will  give 
you  some  very  good  stories,  but  I  must  have  money. 
Evans,  I  am  sure,  will  do  this,  upon  your  reputation. 

As  to  those  that  I  wrote  for  the  occasion,  they  have 
not  my  stamp  upon  them,  and  I  would  prefer  not  to 
append  my  name.  In  the  matter  of  verse,  also,  I  shall 
rarely  be  able  to  give  my  time  for  the  money  I  get  for 
it.  You  have  the  option  of  rejecting.  Consider  whether 
you  should  not  offer  fitting  inducements  to  contribute 
one's  best  ? 

^  Editor  of  Once  a  Week.  Of  tho  '  Highwayman  '  and  '  Paul  Bentley  ' 
here  roferrod  to,  no  trace  can  be  found. 


LETTERS  OF  GEORGE  MEREDITH  23 

I  think  you  might  at  once  put  the  1st  portion  of  '  Paul 
Bentley  '  into  the  artist's  hands. 

I  wish  you  a  sound  digestion  to  your  Christmas,  and 
am,  my  dear  Lucas,  your  faithful       George  ]Meeedith. 


To  Mrs.  Janet  Ross. 

COPSHAM,  EsHER,  May  17,  1861. 

My  dear  Janet, — The  little  man  has  been  in  great 
glee  to  answer  you.  He  had  paper  and  everything 
ready  to  do  so  a  week  before  your  letter  came,  and  his 
reply  is  all  his  own,  and  from  his  heart.  He  must  love 
you.  Who  could  fail  to  love  one  so  staunch  and  tender 
to  him  ?  Here  have  I  waited  silently,  thinking  much 
of  you,  and  incurring  I  knew  not  what  condemnation. 
I  have  not  thought  of  you  less  because  I  withheld  my 
pen.  The  truth  is,  my  experiences  are  aU  mental — I 
see  nothing  of  the  world,  and  what  I  have  to  say  goes 
into  books.  However,  I  am  now  compelled  by  my  state 
of  health  to  give  it  up  for  a  time.  Your  poet — dare  I 
call  myseK  that,  after  hearing  the  rhapsodic  eulogies  of 
old  Alder  ?  ^  I  assure  you,  my  dear,  I  caimot  equal  him. 
I  might  put  him  into  rhythm,  but  that  would  spoil  his 
hearty  idiom.  I  feel  quite  a  friendhness  for  old  Alder 
after  hearing  him  speak  of  you. — '  I  never  saw  a  young 
lady  like  her,  and  never  shall  again.  She  's  a  loss  to 
Esher  and  to  England  !  '  etc.  You  are  compared  vdih. 
JMiss  Gilbert  and  Miss  Reynolds  ;  and  men  are  dared 
to  say  that  either  fair  equestrian  surpassed  you  on 
horseback.  Apropos  of  the  former  lady,  Landseer  has 
a  picture  of  her  in  the  Academy,  leaning  exhausted 
against  the  flanks  of  a  mare  couchant.  '  Taming  of  the 
Shrew  '  the  picture  is  named,  and  it  is  sufficiently  bad. 

*  A  butcher  of  Esher,  and  a  regular  follower  of  the  Duo  d'AumoJe's 
hounds. 


24  LETTERS  OF  GEORGE  MEREDITH 

Millais  has  nothing.  Hunt  a  '  Street  Wooing  in  Cairo/ 
of  which  you  could  judge  better  than  I.  Leighton  has 
a  '  Paolo  and  Francesca  '  ;  painted  just  as  the  book  has 
dropped  and  they  are  in  no  state  to  read  more.  You 
would  scorn  it ;  but  our  friendship  never  rested  on 
common  sentiments  in  art.  I  greatly  admire  it.  I 
think  it  the  sole  English  picture  exhibiting  passion  that 
I  have  seen.  I  have  the  delight  to  stand  alone  in  my 
judgment  of  this,  as  of  most  things,  and  I  shall  see  the 
world  coming  round  to  my  opinion,  and  thinking  it  its 
own.  Does  that  smack  of  the  original  George  M.  ? — 
Never   mind.     Well :    there  is   a  beautiful   portrait   of 

Alice    P .     Idealised    of    course — showing    more    in 

her  than  she  possesses  ;  but  my  friend  Maxse — one 
who  is  strong  on  points  of  feminine  beauty  (a  naval 
man  loose  upon  society) — thinks  her  superior  to  the 
picture  in  physique.  He  meets  her  out.  He  said  to 
me,  the  first  time  :  '  I  think  she  thought  me  slow  ' : — 
the  second  :  '  Is  she  stupid  ?  '  His  conclusive  judgment 
pronounces  her  an  exquisitely  plumed  little  pol  parrot. 
She  is  being  admired  :  people  think  she  should  wear 
more  clothing.  The  effect  is  said  to  be  that  of  a  damsel 
such  as  you  see  at  the  booth  of  a  country  fair. — ^Maxse 
is  a  very  nice  fellow  with  strong  literary  tastes.  He 
was  Naval  Aide-de-Camp  to  Lord  Lyons  in  the  Crimea. 
I  dare  say  you  have  heard  of  him.  You  would  like 
him.  He  is  very  anxious  to  be  introduced  some  day 
to  Rose  Jocelyn.  I  tell  him  that  Janet  ROSS  is  a  finer 
creature.  If  Rose  satisfies  him,  how  will  not  Janet ! 
He  has  taken  a  cottage  at  Molesey,  and  we  make  ex- 
peditions together  on  foot.  Talking  of  Rose,  did  you 
see  the  Saturday  ?  It  says  you  are  a  heroine  who  deserve 
to  be  a  heroine.  And  yet  I  think  I  missed  you.  Your 
Mother  tells  me  that  Mrs.  Austin  speaks  in  very  hand- 
some terms  of  the  performance  generally,  and  of  the 


LETTERS  OF  GEORGE  MEREDITH  25 

portrait  in  particular. — I  have  not  seen  your  mother  for 
some  days.  She  has  had  another  attack,  a  very  severe 
one.  It  wears  my  heart  to  think  of  her.  And  yet  her 
constitution  rallies  from  time  to  time,  and  I  have  still 
strong  hopes  of  her  ultimate  recovery.  She  must  not 
spend  another  winter  in  England. — The  baby  is  quite 
charming.  Like  you,  but  rosier,  and  with  a  tendency 
to  be  just  as  positive.  She  articulates  admirably,  and 
shows  quahties  equal  to  the  physiological  promise  I 
have  noted  from  the  first.  How  I  should  wish  Arthur 
to  conquer  a  fair  position  in  the  world,  and  lead  her 
away  as  a  certain  Janet  was  led  !  At  present  he  is  not 
brilhant  but  he  is  decidedly  hopeful.  I  don't  want  to 
force  him  yet.  I  wish  to  keep  him  sound,  and  to  instil 
good  healthy  habits  of  mind  and  body.  In  writing, 
spelling,  and  reading  ;  in  memory  for  what  he  acquires, 
few  children  surpass  him.  And  he  really  thinks — without 
being  at  all  instigated  to  think.  I  remained  at  Copsham 
for  his  sake,  and  perhaps  shall  not  quit  it  for  some  time 
to  come.  He  will  not  go  to  a  regular  school  till  next 
year.  I  don't  like  the  thought  of  his  going  ;  but  it 
must  be,  and  so  I  submit. 

I  have  three  works  in  hand.  The  most  advanced  is 
'  Emilia  Belloni,'  of  which  I  have  read  some  chapters 
to  your  mother,  and  gained  her  strong  approval.  Emilia 
is  a  feminine  musical  genius.  I  gave  you  once,  sitting 
on  the  mound  over  Copsham,  an  outline  of  the  real  story 
it  is  taken  from.  Of  course  one  does  not  follow  out  real 
stories  ;  and  this  has  simply  suggested  Emilia  to  me. — 
Then,  my  next  novel  is  called  '  A  Woman's  Battle.' 
Qy. — good  title  ?  I  think  it  will  be  my  best  book  as  yet. 
The  third  is  weaker  in  breadth  of  design.  It  is  called 
'  Van  Diemen  Smith  ' — is  interesting  as  a  story.  Nous 
verrons  : — Last  night  I  went  with  Maxse  to  the  House 
of  Commons  to  hear  the  Debate  on  the  Constitution. 


26  LETTERS  OF  GEORGE  MEREDITH 

I  saw  your  friend  Layard,  but  did  not  hear  him.  Eothen  ^ 
was  absent.  Gladstone  swallowed  the  whole  Conser- 
vative body  with  his  prodigious  yawn  and  eloquence 
alternately.  I  never  saw  a  man  yawn  so  naively  and 
excusably.  The  truth  is  that  there  is  some  honesty 
but  small  stock  of  brains  on  the  Conservative  side.  I 
could  not  wait  for  Bright.  I  heard  Horsman,  who  is 
good  enough,  and  seems  bidding  for  the  Conservative 
leadership.  He  will  perhaps  get  it ;  but  he  is  not  the 
man  to  prop  a  sinking  cause.  It  is  clear  that  we  in 
England  are  going  down  to  a  lower  circle.  Natural 
development,  no  doubt. 

I  have  made  friends  with   a  nice  feUow  lately  :    a 

son  of  the  Ambassador  at  Athens,  Sir  T.  W whom 

your  mother  knew.  He  married  a  Bonaparte — a  daughter 
of  Lucien — who  is  what  all  the  Bonaparte  women  are. 

Two  boys,  N W and  B W .     The 

latter  I  know.  He  has  nice  tastes,  and  is  an  odd  mixture 
of  Irishman  and  Corsican.  He  wanted  me  to  go  to 
Athens  with  him.  I  may  meet  him  returning  and  come 
home  through  Provence.  He  is  intimate  with  the 
members  of  the  new  School  of  Provencal  poets  there, 
and  wishes  me  to  know  them.  Mistral  I  have  read. 
He  is  really  a  fine  poet.  If  I  go  I  shall  have  some- 
thing to  write  to  you  about. 

The  dear  good  Bart,  looks  melancholy  riding  alone. 
It 's  rather  sad  seeing  him  out.  Otherwise  he  is  as 
cheerful  and  of  the  same  port  as  of  yore. 

My  dear,  I  have  been  thinking  many  a  month  of  a 
Wedding  present  for  you.  I  don't  like  jewels,  and 
books  you  have  enough  of.  It  struck  me  that  a  magni- 
ficent photograph  of  your  father  and  mother,  Mossy  and 
Rainy,  would  please  you  best.  Your  mother  will  sit 
when  she  is  well  enough.     What  say  you  ? 

^  Kinglake. 


LETTERS  OF  GEORGE  MEREDITH  27 

In  conclusion,  let  me  beg  you  to  send  to  me  and  tell 
me  anything  that  you  want  that  I  may  have  the  pleasure 
to  get  it  for  you.  I  rejoice  with  all  my  soul  that  you 
are  so  happy.  By  the  way,  Maxse  introduced  me  to 
the  Comte  de  Paris  the  other  day  :  who  said  of  your 
husband  :  '  Mr.  Ross  is  a  very  clever  man,'  in  a  tone  of 
conviction  and  esteem.  Of  you  he  spoke  as  it  pleased 
me  to  hear.  The  Orleanists  seem  looking  up,  owing  to 
the  Aumale  pamphlet.  The  Duke  was  chairman  of  the 
Literary  Fund  Dinner  last  night,  and  spoke  capitally. 

Remember  me  to  your  husband  very  kindly.  And 
please  write  soon  and  cordially  forgive  me.  My  heart 
is  very  much  with  you,  and  I  am  always  at  my  Janet's 
service. 


To  F.  M.  Evans. 

[Zurich],  July  9,  1861. 

My  DEAR  Evans, — Be  so  good  as  to  send  me  £30, 
through  your  banker,  to  Innsbriick.  Address  Poste 
Restante  ;  and  please  don't  fail  to  do  this  within  a  couple 
of  days  after  receipt  of  this  letter,  as  your  servant  will 
require  it. 

Arthur  is  quite  well,  and  bore  his  traveUing  like  a 
man.  He  met  with  perfect  kindness  from  everybody, 
and  remarks  that  '  these  Germans  are  nice  people.'  He 
has  it  on  his  mind  that  he  did  not  go  to  say  good-bye  to 
Mrs.  Orridge.     Let  her  know  his  compunctious  visitings. 

Write  a  word  of  avis  that  your  banker  has  done  the 
good  deed  ;  and  also,  if  Lucas  has  not  written,  say 
whether  he  w^ants  the  continuation  and  conclusion  of 
the  '  Dyke  Farm.'  i 

Ziirich  is  a  charming  place,  with  a  clear  lake,  fine  hills, 

»  There  is  no  trace  ot  this  story — probably  an  early  title  for  Rhoda 
Fittrniu'j. 


28  LETTERS  OF  GEORGE  MEREDITH 

and  Alps  in  the  distance.  The  Swiss  fleece  you  with 
admirable  gravity.  The  great  '  shots  '  of  Stanz  parade 
the  town  with  their  prizes  in  their  hats.  ...  I  shall  send 
you  something  shortly.  I  am  better  already.  I  shall 
soon  be  eager  for  work. 


To  F.  M.  Evans. 

Meran,  South  Tyrol,  Austria,  1861. 

My  dear  Evans, — I  wrote  to  you  from  Ziirich,  asking 
for  £30  to  be  sent  on  immediately  to  Innsbriick.  It  has 
not  come.  I  have  calculated  on  it,  and  am  therefore 
quite  upset  by  the  contretemps.  I  have  an  idea  that 
the  letter  cannot  have  reached  you,  or  something  is 
wrong.  I  wrote  to  Chapman  from  Laudek,  but  am 
losing  faith  in  letters.  So,  to  make  sure,  I  write  to  you 
again.  Please  send,  on  the  day  you  get  this,  £20  to 
the  Poste  Restante,  Meran,  Siid  Tyrol,  Austria.  I  am 
almost  inclined  to  ask  you  to  telegraph  to  a  banker  here 
to  hand  the  money  to  me  at  the  hotel,  Graf  v.  Meran. 
The  truth  is  I  have  made  a  mess  of  my  money-arrange- 
ments and  am  here  without  any,  dependent  on  a  civil 
landlord  for  wherewithal  to  make  merry  abroad.  Don't 
fail  to  do  something.  I  wish  Frederick  would  see  Fred 
Chapman  and  hear  what  he  has  done.  If  he  has  sent 
the  money  in  time  for  it  to  reach  me  here  on  Monday, 
then  please  send  £10  to  Milan,  Lombardy,  Italy,  Poste 
Restante — in  a  registered  letter,  or  credit  on  a  banker. 
If  he  has  delayed,  or  has  not  received  my  letter,  then  I 
don't  object  to  the  expense  of  a  telegraph  to  a  banker 
here,  teUing  him  to  hand  me  the  money  at  my  hotel. 

In  my  letter  from  Ziirich  I  wished  you  to  tell  me 
whether  Lucas  wanted  the  conclusion  of  the  '  Dyke 
Farm.'  I  left  word  for  him  to  speak  to  that  effect,  in 
Bouverie  St.    What  the  deuce  has  come  to  you  all  ? 


LETTERS  OF  GEORGE  MEREDITH  29 

The  moment  I  leave  England  all 's  dead  silent  to  rear- 
ward. I  'm  not  of  much  importance,  but  still  I  expect 
my  country  to  make  a  little  sign.  I  suppose,  from 
Lucas's  silence,  he  does  not  want  the  work  in  question. 
But  why  doesn't  he  say  so  ?  Contributors  used  in  this 
fashion,  fall  to  the  ground.  Pray,  write  and  tell  me 
some  news.  Is  it  true  that  '  Once  a  Week  '  is  dead  ?  Is 
the  '  Times  '  defunct  ?  Send  to  Milan  a  paper  or  two  of 
any  kind,  with  the  latest  news.  I  shall  see  you,  I  hope, 
in  the  latter  end  of  August. — The  country  about  Meran 
is  a  great  garden  open  to  the  South.  Arthur  rests  in 
one  of  the  valleys  more  north,  and  is  making  a  collection 
of  butterflies  and  beetles.  He  is  quite  well,  and  very 
much  astonished  at  the  smiles  he  meets  in  the  houses. 
His  more  poetical  impressions  he  keeps  to  himself. 


To  F.  M.  Evans. 

Meran,  July  1861. 

My  dear  Evans  (Father  and  Son  !), — I  have  re- 
ceived the  £20  forwarded  here,  and  right  thankfully. 
Your  letter  to  Innsbriick  has  not  reached  me  ;  nor  have 
I  heard  from  Lucas. 

I  shall  see  whether  the  long-named  banker  at  Inns- 
briick won't  forward  the  money  here,  otherwise  I  shall 
be  put  out  of  my  route  altogether. 

My  walks  of  about  30  miles  a  day  under  a  fiery  sun 
have  improved  me,  and  I  think  I  can  go  to  work  now  for 
another  nine  months.  Have  you  any  idea  of  what 
Lucas's  intentions  were  concerning  the  '  Dyke  Farm  '  ? 

I  have  an  autobiographical  story  in  view  for  O.a.W. 
when  Chapman's  3  vols,  are  out  of  hand. 

That  is,  if  O.a.W.  survives.  For  I  know  nothing  and 
hear  nothing.  Nobody  sends  me  a  '  Times  '  or  a 
'  Punch  '  !     I  am  forgotten  if  I  don't  set  to  \\-ork  all  the 


30  LETTERS  OF  GEORGE  MEREDITH 

agencies  of  science.  You  write  me  contemptuously 
short  business  paragraphs.  It 's  clear  to  me  that  travel- 
ling is  for  great  men  alone.  They  have  their  country's 
eyes  on  them  ! 

The  bother  is  that  if  I  only  knew  where  Lucas  is  going 
to,  I  might  come  across  him,  and  put  something  stronger 
than  a  pen  to  his  breast  to  make  him  out  with  what  he 
means. 

Arthur  is  quite  well.  He  is  here,  and  a  mighty  traveller 
as  you  may  suppose.  He  says  he  is  happy,  and  is  catching 
butterflies. 

To  Captain  Maxse, 

Meran,  South  Tybol,  July  26,  1861. 

My  dear  Maxse, — Is  it  you  who  send  the  poem 
'  Tannhauser '  ^  to  me  here  ?  And  why  ?  Do  you  think 
it  very  good  ? — 0  my  dear  fellow  !  I  '11  talk  about  that 
presently,  but  I  wish  you  were  with  me  or  I  with  you  : 
for  my  companion  's  a  dear  old  boy,  but  we  don't  get  on 
quite  as  travellers.  And  not  only  for  that  reason,  but 
for  many  reasons,  I  want  to  see  you,  and  shake  your 
hand,  and  hear  about  your  bubbles,  and  the  hfe  you  go 
through.  In  fact,  I  begin  to  feel  that  I  must  see  you  and 
have  a  very  strong  affection  for  you,  if  you  don't  mind 
hearing  that  much,  O  my  shame-faced  Briton  1 — Well, 
I  fear  I  shall  not  meet  you  at  Baden  Baden,  even  if  you 
go  there.  I  have  been  thrown  out  by  money-arrange- 
ments faihng,  letters  missing,  etc.  I  return  by  Botzen 
to  Verona  ;  thence  to  Milan,  Turin,  Dijon,  Paris.  The 
dear  little  man  is  quite  well,  making  a  collection  of 
Tyrolese  butterflies  and  beetles.  He  is  at  Laudck,  about 
80  miles  in  the  rear  of  us  ;  at  the  junction  of  the  Inn  and 

^  '  Tannhiiuser,  or  the  Battle  of  the  Bards,'  bj''  Neville  Temple 
(Julian  Henry  Charles  Fane)  and  Edward  Trevor  (Edward  Robert 
Bulwer  Lytton,  Earl  of  Lytton). 


LETTERS  OF  GEORGE  MEREDITH  31 

the  Rosanna.  The  Rosanna,  by  the  way,  put  mo  in 
mind  of  you — nay,  sang  of  you  with  a  mountain  voice, 
somehow,  I  don't  know  how.  Perhaps  because  it  is 
both  hearty  and  gallant,  subtle,  and  sea-green.  You 
never  saw  so  lovely  a  brawling  torrent.  Clear,  ice-cold, 
foaming.  You  shall  have  the  verses  it  inspired.  Tell 
me  :  Would  you  like  the  dedication  of  my  volume  of 
Poems,  when  it 's  ready  ?  Say,  no,  if  you  feel  no.  For 
my  part  I  feel  the  honour  wiU  be  mine. 

We  walked  from  Innsbriick  to  Laudek  in  three  days. 
W does  not  walk  in  rain,  or  when  it 's  to  be  appre- 
hended ;  nor  when  there  's  a  chance  of  nightfall ;  nor 
does  he  like  it  in  the  heat ;  and  he  's  not  the  best  hand 
in  the  world  at  getting  up  in  the  morning,  and  he  's 
rather  excitable.  But  still  thoroughly  kind  and  good. 
So  we  did  not  come  at  a  great  rate.  From  Laudek  we 
took  three  days  and  a  quarter  to  Meran,  whence  I  write 
to  you.  The  country  is  wonderful.  Mountains  holding 
up  cups  of  snow  to  the  fiery  sun,  who  glares  on  them  in 
vain.  The  peasantry  are  a  noble  race  :  pious,  and  with 
a  strong  smell.  Priests  abound  and  soap  flies  before 
them.  I  sigh,  hke  Tannhauser,  for  the  Venusberg. 
Now,  don't  you  think  the  writers  of  *  Tannhauser,'  clever 
as  they  are  and  of  marked  poetic  power,  should  have 
waited  till  they  wore  ofi  Tennyson  somewhat  ?  Such 
is  my  opinion.  There  was  to  be  a  review  in  the  '  Times.' 
Has  it  appeared  ? 

Meran  is  southern  in  heat  and  luxury  of  growth  of  all 
kinds  of  fruits.  The  cicada  goes  all  day  hke  a  factory 
wheel — poetic  simile  !  The  flies  sting,  and  the  sun  is 
relentless.  I  begin  to  understand  why  Daphne  fled  into 
a  laurel  from  the  fiery  fellow.  Still  I  hke  sun,  as  you  do. 
Anything  's  better  than  the  meagre  days  we  got  last 
year.  This  land  abounds  in  falling  waters,  brooks, 
torrents,  all  ice  cold.     We  drank  at  the  wells  every  ten 


32  LETTERS  OF  GEORGE  MEREDITH 

minutes,  sat  over  the  brooks  naked  legged,  dipped  our 
heads  desperately.  Here  are  crucifixes  at  every  fifty 
yards.  You  go  to  a  well  and  the  pipe  through  which  the 
water  flows  is  through  the  body  of  a  Christ.  Hear  you 
a  droning  noise  on  the  wind,  it  issues  from  a  body  of 
peasants  mumbhng  their  rosaries  as  they  march  to  work. 

They  are  invariably  courteous.     W says,  they  remind 

him  more  of  the  Spaniards  than  do  any  other  people, 
but  they  have  not  the  same  prolonged  gravity  of  deport- 
ment. Nothing  can  be  grander  than  the  colossal  moun- 
tains of  porphyry  and  dolomite  shining  purple  and  rosy, 
snow-capped  here  and  there,  with  some  tumultuous  river 
noising  below,  and  that  eternal  stillness  overhead,  save 
when  some  great  peak  gathers  the  thunders  and  bellows 
for  a  time.  Then  to  see  the  white  sulphurous  masks 
curl  and  cover  round  it,  and  drip  moisture  on  the  hanging 
meadows,  would  task  your  powers  of  description,  0  my 
friend  ! 

Do  our  loves  prosper  ? 

*  Life  is  real — life  is  earnest ! 
Tiddle  lol  de  lol  de  lol.' 

But  I  wish  you  would  fix  soon  ;  for  as  I  told  you,  and 
as  you  feel,  time  goes,  and  the  wheel  is  pleasant,  but  if 
you  keep  on  the  wheel  you  are  grey  before  you  know,  and 
then  the  past  looks  horridly  empty.  Heigho  !  I  have 
Art  to  solace  me.  If  I  saw  you  stick  to  that  I  would 
not  preach.  My  health  is  better.  I  can  do  30  miles 
per  diem  under  this  sun,  without  knocking  up.  Never- 
theless the  nerves  are  not  yet  right.  One  good  sign  is 
that  I  am  very  anxious  to  finish  my  *  Emilia  '  ;  and  have 
gentle  prickings  about  other  matters  in  my  mind. 

Meran  is  a  glorious  place.  We  look  towards  Italy. 
The  country  is  Uke  a  garden.     The  Adige  flows  on  one 


LETTERS  OF  GEORGE  MEREDITH  33 

hand,  the  Passeyr  on  the  other.  We  have  a  Schv/imm- 
bad   here.     The   water   is   too   cold   for   swimming.     It 

stings.     W •  goes  to  it  in  the  morning  and  remains 

naked  somewhere  in  the  neighbourhood  all  day.  Ad- 
ventures we  have  had  none.  The  old  boy  is  very  de- 
sponding about  his  circumstances,  and  he  won't  buckle 
up  to  brave  them.  I  suppose  he  knows  best,  so  I  say 
nothing. 

My  first  sight  of  the  Alps  has  raised  odd  feelings. 
Here  at  last  seems  something  more  than  earth,  and 
visible,  if  not  tangible.  They  have  the  whiteness,  the 
silence,  the  beauty  and  mystery  of  thoughts  seldom 
unveiled  within  us,  but  which  conquer  Earth  when  once 
they  are.  In  fact  they  have  made  my  creed  tremble. — 
Only  for  a  time.  They  have  merely  dazzled  me  with  a 
group  of  symbols.  Our  great  error  has  been  (the  error 
of  ail  religion,  as  I  fancy)  to  raise  a  spiritual  system 
in  antagonism  to  Nature.  What  thougji  yonder  Alp 
does  touch  the  Heavens  ?  Is  it  a  rebuke  to  us  below  ? 
In  you  and  in  me  there  may  be  lofty  virgin  points,  pure 

from  what  we  call  fleshliness.     And  so  forth. — W is 

lost  in  astonishment  at  me  because  I  don't  look  out  for 
a  '  woman.'  '  You  're  a  pote,  and  I  can't  think  how  a 
pote  can  get  on  without  one.  I  'd  go  mad.' — Mrs.  W. 
is  very  kind  to  Arthur,  and  really  in  love  with  the  Irish- 
Corsican.  They  spoon  terribly.  Perhaps  I  am  gettmg 
old,  for  I  don't  envy  them,  though  I  feel  a  kind  of  empti- 
ness— an  uncared-for  feeling.  A  good  friendship  would 
satisfy  me. — You  made  an  impression  on  Lady  Dufif. 
She  likes  you  and  takes  to  you  altogether. — How  is  it 
the  Austrians  get  beaten  by  the  French  ?  A  finer  set 
of  men  than  the  Austrian  soldiers  you  can't  see  anywhere. 
Their  drill  seems  good.  They  don't  expect  war  for 
some  months.  I  hear  Benedek  has  left  Verona  for 
Carlsbad. 

VOL.  I. — c 


34  LETTERS  OF  GEORGE  MEREDITH 

Write  to  me,  Poste  Restante,  JMilan,  Lombardy,  Italy, 
and  don't  fast,  there  's  a  dear  fellow. — Your  faithful. 

George  Meredith. 

To  Captain  Maxse. 

RIiLAN,  August  16,  1861. 

My  dear  Maxse, — Behold  a  pretty  picture,  which  is 
to  tell  3''0u  I  have  been  in  Venice,  which  you  know  so 
well,  which  is  a  dream  and  a  seduction  to  the  soul  of 
me.  I  wish  you  had  been  there  with  me. — Now,  mark 
the  Campanile  above,  for  you  are  to  have  it  reproduced 
one  day  m  illustrious  verse.  There  did  I  conceive  an 
Ode. — I  have  followed  Bj^ron's  and  Shelley's  footsteps 
there  (in  Venice)  on  the  Lido,  Do  you  remember  in 
*  JuHan  and  Maddalo,'  where  the  two,  looking  towards 
the  Euganean  hills,  see  the  great  beU  of  the  Insane 
Asylum  swing  in  the  sunset  ?  I  found  the  exact  spot. 
I  have  seldom  felt  melancholy  so  strongly  as  when 
standing  there.  You  know  I  despise  melanchol}^  but 
the  feeling  came.  I  love  both  those  poets  ;  and  with 
my  heart  given  to  them  I  felt  as  if  I  stood  in  a  dead  and 
useless  time.  So  are  we  played  with  sometimes  !  At 
that  hour  your  heart  was  burstuig  with  a  new  passion, 
and  the  past  was  as  smoke  flittmg  away  from  a  fired-off 
old  contemptible  gun.  Vv^ell,  I  walked  the  Lido  every 
day,  and  bathed  with  my  httle  man  in  the  tepid  Adriatic, 
and  floated  through  the  streets  in  my  gondola,  and 
received  charming  salutes  from  barred  windows  :  from 
one  notabl}^  where  a  very  pretty  damsel,  lost  in  languor, 
hung  with  her  loose-robed  bosom  against  the  iron,  and 
pressed  amorously  to  see  me  pass,  tiU  she  could  no  further  : 
I  meantime  issued  order  to  Lorenzo,  my  gondolier,  to 
return,  and  lo,  as  I  came  slowly  into  view  she  as  slowly 
arranged  her  sweet  shape  to  be  seen  decently,  and  so 
stood,  but  half  a  pace  in  the  recess,  with  one  dear  hand 


LETTERS  OF  GEORGE  MEREDITH  35 

on  one  shoulder,  her  head  sHghtly  lyuig  on  her  neck, 
her  drooped  eyehds  mournfully  seeming  to  say  :  '  No, 
no  ;  never  !  tho'  I  am  d^dng  to  be  wedded  to  that  wish 
of  yours  and  would  stake  my  soul  I  have  divined  it !  ' — 
wasn't  it  charming  ?  This  too,  so  mtensely  human  from 
a  figure  vaporous,  but  half  discernible  ! 

I  have  been  alone  with  Arthur  in  Venice,  which  was  a 

blessing,  for  somehow  or  other  dear  old  W isn't  at 

all  the  right  sort  of  companion.  He  says  he  thinks  it 's 
his  stomach,  I  tell  him  that  it  is  not  fair  for  a  man 
to  throw  his  stomach  in  one's  face.  The  fact  is  the 
dear  old  boj^  (meanmg  excellently)  is  irritable  exceed- 
ingly :  tiffs  twent}^  times  a  day,  and  now  and  then  a  sulk. 
Then  ensues  reconcihation  :  '  Mardith  !  I  don't  mind 
saying  I  'm  sorry  !  and  ye  can  judge  of  me  'ffection  for 
ye  when  ye  see  I  don't  hes'tate  to  sacrifice  me  praide, 
etc'  He  owns  still  he  thinks  me  in  the  wrong,  when 
the  next  occasion  recurs.  You  may  imagine  this  sort  of 
schoolboy  business  is  not  to  my  taste.  When  one  does 
meet  a  woman,  it 's  better  to  have  her  in  petticoats. — 
Here  (m  IMilan)  I  met  him  again.  He  went  last  night  to 
see  his  mother  on  Lake  Como,  at  the  Villa  d'Este.  I  go 
to  him  to-morrow.  Next  daj^  I  trust,  homeward  by 
way  of  the  Mont  Cenis,  to  Paris.  I  shall  rest  in  Paris 
a  day  or  two,  according  to  the  state  of  my  funds.  Will 
you  write  to  me  there,  Poste  Restante,  I  want  to  know 
where  I  can  see  you  in  London,  for  I  have  an  immense 
longing  to  wring  j^our  hand.  I  \'/ill  accept  a  dinner. 
That  is  to  say,  a  dish  of  fish,  an  Ji^nglish  steak,  and  no 
wine.  I  am  much  better  in  health  ;  but,  j'ou  see,  I  have 
been  somewhat  disappointed  about  the  management  of 
Arthur.  I  have  been  able  to  get  onlj'-  one  week's  walk, 
and  the  rest  of  the  time  the  httle  fellow  has  been  on  my 
hands.  But  what  a  jolly  boy  and  capital  companion 
he  is  !     Full  of  fun  and  observation,  good  temper  and 


36  LETTERS  OF  GEORGE  IMEREDITH 

endurance.  The  tour  has  sown  much  fine  stuff  in  him, 
but  I  am  anxious  at  last  to  have  him  home.  As  for  me, 
I  beheve  I  shall  now  be  in  condition  for  labour  of  the 
remunerative  kind.  The  novelty  has  been  worth  the 
money  in  all  ways.  Could  I  but  afford  to  rest  and  look 
on  man  for  one  year  !  Non  e  possibile. — You  must  see 
Arthur's  Diary.     He  is  at  it  now,  at  my  elbow. 

Yes  !  those  bleeding,  tortured  images  by  the  wayside 
were  painful  and  became  exasperating — almost  as  much 
so  as  the  sight  of  the  crowds  of  white  coats  through  the 
whole  of  the  Venetian  territory.  In  Verona  they  have 
a  garrison  of  45,000  men.  The  population  numbers 
G0,000.  The  soldiers  have  to  keep  to  themselves,  the 
officers  are  cut,  and  nothing  so  miserable  and  menacing 
can  be  fancied.  Even  the  girls  won't  be  spoken  to. 
I  saw  an  amusing  scene  of  a  couple  of  officers  after  two, 
who  led  them  a  terrible  round  and  finally  drew  up  at  a 
melon-seller's.  There  they  began  chattering,  wouldn't 
let  Mr.  Ober-heutenant  get  in  a  word  ;  suddenly  they 
turned  round,  fired  a  volley  of  contempt  and  virtuous 
indignation  and  retired  into  the  applauding  crowd. 
When  Venus  turns  against  Mars  what  shall  the  poor 
devil  do  ?  Better  doff  his  casque. — Now  about  '  Tann- 
hauser.'  I  think  the  review  in  the  '  Times  '  stupid.  It 's 
just  a  blow  of  the  trumpet.  The  poem  is  a  failure,  and 
the  young  men  ought  to  have  been  told  so.  It  fails, 
because  the  central  })oint  (in  action),  the  '  Battle,'  is 
absurdly  weak,  even  to  silliness  :  because  the  theme, 
which  is  so  glorious,  is  spoilt,  in  order  to  cry  up  and 
preach  a  sort  of  cherubim  chastity  popular  just  now, 
and  which  is  not  the  real  thing :  because  it  has  no  char- 
acter, even  done  in  outline.  It  contains,  I  think,  no 
image,  or  scene,  that  the  mmd  clings  to.  I  don't  care 
much  for  the  passages  you  point  out — '  a  drooping  hare- 
bell '  is  in  the  '  Princess.'     The  revelation  of  Venus  ia 


LETTERS  OF  GEORGE  MEREDITH  37 

poor,  matched  with  the  subject.  To  my  mmd  the  best 
parts  are  the  departure  of  the  pilgrims,  and  the  return, 
especially  that  of  the  one  bemg  questioned.  The  filing 
by  of  the  procession  reminds  me  of  the  main  point  in 
V.  Hugo's  ballad  '  Les  Cymbahers  du  Roi.'  On  re- 
reading the  poem  I  am  confirmed  m  a  cloyed  sensation 
I  fijst  experienced.  The  aUiteration  is  really  so  persis- 
tent that  the  ears  feel  as  if  they  had  been  horribly 
drummed  on.  Power  of  narrative,  I  see.  Mimetic  ]30wer 
of  a  wonderful  kind,  and  flow  of  verse,  also  extraordinary. 
I  am  not  touched  by  any  new  music  m  it.  I  do  not  find 
any  comprehension  of  human  nature,  or  observation,  or 
sympathy  with  it.  I  perceive  none  of  the  subtleties, 
deep  but  miobtrusive,  that  show  that  a  mind  has  travelled. 
Great  windy  phrases,  and  what  I  must  term  (for  so  they 
hit  my  sense)  encaustic  imageries  do  not  satisfy  me  any 
longer,  though  I  remember  a  period  when  they  did.  The 
passage 

'  Or  shall  I  call  you  men  or  beasts,' 

praised  by  the  '  Times,'  shows  the  Muse  pufl-cheeked,  and 
Elizabeth  ridiculous.  The  scene  was  managed  in  order 
to  bring  her  out.  It  does  so  with  a  vengeance.  Don't 
you  see  how  ill  in  accordance  with  the  Httle  bit  of  idea 
one  gets  of  Elizabeth  this  is  ?  She  may  be  vehement 
without  acting  the  virago.  Such  a  creature  would  not 
have  commenced  with  invective  :  she  might  have  heated 
herself  up  to  it :  entreaty,  self-al^andonment,  unconscious 
declarations  of  her  love  for  the  object  of  their  wrath  in 
unmeasured  praise  of  him,  excuse  of  him,  etc.  ;  then, 
when  her  words  seem  not  to  be  producing  their  effect, 
then  a  fiery  line,  if  you  like.  But  how  stagey  is  the 
'  Or  shall  I  call  you,  etc.  !  '  And  this  is  the  thing  that 
attracts  you  ? 

Somethmg  better  has  done  that.     Well,  1  wiU  tell  you 


38  LETTERS  OF  GEORGE  MEREDITH 

what  I  think.  You  know  I  wish  very  earnestly  to  see 
you,  a  man  made  to  understand  and  make  happy  any 
pure,  good  woman,  married  to  one.  I  don't  thmli  any 
son  owes  his  parents  more  than  the  conscientious  assur- 
ance that  he  has  clearly  thought  over  what  he  is  about 
to  do  (in  such  a  matter)  ;  seeing  that  men  are  the  only 
possible  judges  in  the  case  ;  and  that  the  stake  is  all 
their  own.  To  have  found  a  suitable  person,  and  to  give 
her  up  for  anything  on  earth  is  like  seeing  a  jewel  on  the 
shore  and  rejecting  it  on  account  of  the  trouble  of  con- 
veying it  home.  But  do  you  strongly  recognise  the 
jewel  ?  Have  j^ou  found  her  ?  A  boy  can't,  but  a 
man  must  reason,  in  these  cases.  You  may  know  your 
love  from  its  power  of  persisting  and  bearmg  delay. 
Passion  has  not  these  powers.  If  your  love  of  this 
person  is  true  and  not  one  of  your  fancies,  it  wiU  soon 
light  you  clear  enough.  .  .  .  And  don't  be  hasty  and 
think  you  are  trusting  your  mstinct  by  grasping  suddenly 
at  the  golden  apple.  Can  you  bear  poverty  for  her  ? 
WiU  she  for  you  ?  Can  she,  even  if  she  would  ?  Think 
whether  you  are  risking  it,  and  remember  that  very  few 
women  bear  it  and  retain  their  delicacy  and  charm. 
Some  do.  Can  you  think  her  one  of  the  chosen  ?  The 
great  difficulty  is  to  be  honest  with  ourselves.  If  there 
comes  a  doubt,  the  wave  of  passion  overwhelms  it.  Tr}'' 
and  hsten  to  j^our  doubt.  See  whether  you  feel,  not  what 
we  caU  love,  but  tenderness  for  her.  Satisfy  j^ourself 
on  this  point.  And  then  determine  to  wait.  You  can, 
if  your  heart  has  conceived  real  tenderness.  If  not, 
should  you  marry  her  ?  You  spealc  of  sccurmg  her. 
You  may  secure  her  person,  but  how  can  you  be  yet 
sure  of  more  ?  If  continually  you  fuid  her  worthier, 
fix  your  mind  to  win  her  by  the  force  of  your  love.  Then 
should  you  have  that  divine  delight,  I  ask  you  whether 
you  can  sec  any  earthly  obstacle  in  your  way  1     You 


LETTERS  OF  GEORGE  IMEREDITH  39 

are  on  the  highest  pinnacles  and  may  remain  untouched, 
whatever  is  said  or  done.  You  will  have  pains  and  aches 
— agonies  to  go  through.  They  serve  to  strengthen 
you. — God  bless  you,  my  dear  Maxse  !  Beheve  me  your 
faithful  and  affectionate  George  Meredith. 

I  shall  be  in  Paris  about  the  21st  or  22nd,  or  23rd. 
Please  write  vvhen  you  get  this. 
Did  5'ou  get  the  Pome  I  sent  ? 

To  Mrs.  Janet  Ross  {from  Arthur  G.  Meredith). 

CopsHAM  Cottage,  Sept.  25,  1861. 

My  dear  Janet, — I  was  very  much  pleased  to  receive 
your  letter  but  I  am  very  sorry  you  are  not  well.  Zillah 
goes  to  school  wdth  me  and  I  Hke  it  very  much.  Pat 
a  little  while  ago  went  into  the  water  to  fetch  sticks, 
but  Jessy  spoilt  him  by  catching  hold  of  his  ear  and 
tried  to  make  him  dive.  Jessy  is  a  much  better  dog 
than  Pat.  Our  gardens  are  getting  on  very  well  I  have 
got  a  lot  of  peas  for  seed  and  some  beetroot  almost 
ready  to  dig  up.  About  three  months  ago  I  went  on 
the  continent  with  my  papa.  I  started  from  Dover  to 
Ostend  and  going  in  the  harbour  I  saw  some  Belgian 
peasants  picking  perywinkles  ;  they  laughed  at  us  and 
had  such  rosy  cheeks  and  I  thought  them  very  funny. 
Then  I  had  a  long  day  in  the  train  from  Ostend  to  Cob- 
lentz.  In  the  morning  I  saw  a  steamer  going  to  Mainz 
and  so  we  dressed  and  got  in  it.  On  each  side  of  the 
Rhine  there  are  mountains  that  have  old  castles  on 
them  where  robber  knights  used  to  live,  and  there  was 
the  Lurh  rock,  they  fired  a  gun  and  there  were  three 
echoes.  In  the  morning  the  waiter  at  Mentz  took  me 
upstairs  to  a  high  place  and  showed  me  a  stork's  nest 
built  in  a  chimney.     I  went  from  Mentz  to  Zurich,  where 


40  LETTERS  OF  GEORGE  MEREDITH 

the  lake  of  Zurich  was  so  clear  that  you  could  see  to 
the  bottom  of  it.  The  next  day  I  went  up  part  of  a 
mountain  and  dined,  and  I  saw  the  Alps  at  a  distance  ; 
there  was  a  crow  which  came  hopping  along  and  was 
quite  tame,  but  another  boy  teased  it,  and  so  it  flew 
away. 

From  Zurich  I  went  to  Munich  and  I  crossed  lake 
Constance.  Coming  in  the  harbour  I  saw  a  statue  of  a 
lion  in  the  water.  I  stopped  at  Munich  a  day  and  at 
twelve  o'clock  I  heard  a  nice  band.  The  Bavarian 
soldiers  dress  is  blue  which  looks  very  pretty.  There 
is  a  beautiful  palace  at  Munich.  I  went  into  a  beautiful 
garden  called  the  English  garden  were  I  saw  some  fire 
flies  which  show  a  green  light.  From  Munich  I  went 
to  Innsbruck  were  there  was  a  church  with  bronze  kings 
and  queens  surrounding  the  Emperor  Maximilian  and 
I  saw  the  tomb  of  Andreas  Hofer.  I  went  up  to  some 
high  gardens  and  had  a  view  of  Innsbruck.  From 
Innsbruck  I  went  to  Laudeck  were  I  caught  some  very 
pretty  butterflys  from  Laudeck  I  went  to  Meran  were 
there  are  castles.  I  went  to  schloss  Labenberg  and 
Schloss  Guin  were  there  was  a  nice  man  and  I  bathed  in 
the  Passier.  From  Meran  I  went  to  Verona  and  I  went 
to  Venice  were  I  was  very  happy.  I  went  about  in 
gondolas  in  the  canals  and  bathed  at  the  Liedo  the  water 
IS  so  hot  that  you  can  stopp  in  a  long  while.  I  dine  at 
tables  d'hote  and  had  my  own  bottle  of  wine,  lots  of 
grapes  ;  and  lemonade  on  the  place  St.  Mark.  I  went 
in  the  place  of  St.  Mark  were  there  were  some  pictures 
I  went  from  Venice  to  Milan  and  went  into  the  great 
cathedral  from  Milan  I  went  to  Paris,  over  the  Mount 
Cenis,  I  hked  going  over.  At  Paris  I  had  breakfast  at 
cafes  I  went  to  the  Champs  Elysees  I  saw  the  monument 
of  Napoleon  on  which  were  the  battles  he  fought.  I  went 
in  the  Louve  palace  were   there  were  some  beautiful 


LETTERS  OF  GEORGE  MEREDITH  41 

Italian  pictures.     Then  I  went  home.     I  remain  my  dear 
Janet  your  affectionate  friend,   Artiiur  G.  Meredith. 

Note  in  George  Meredith's  writing  : — 

This  is  entirely  as  you  would  wish  it  to  be — the  small 
man's  own,  I  bearing  the  stamp  thereof.  He  will  have 
a  lot  more  of  it  to  tell  you  when  he  has  you  by  the  ear. 

Written  on  the  back  of  the  foregoing  letter  : — 

My  dear  good  Janet, — Forgive  me.  I  have  been 
going  to  write  you  an  account  of  the  Travels  of  self  and 
son  ;  but  I  am  now  so  torn  to  pieces  and  hard  at  work 
that  I  can't  sit  dowTi  to  anything.  Your  letter  was  based 
on  false  intelligence,  my  dear.  It  was  perfectly  right 
of  you  to  take  up  the  case  as  you  did.  I  am  glad  you 
Uke  me  well  enough  to  do  so.  Be  sure  I  would  not  miss 
your  friendship  for  much  ;  and  would  stoop  my  pride  for 
it,  even  if  that  stood  in  the  way.  As  it  is  there  is  no 
feeling  of  the  sort.  God  bless  you.  I  will  write  fuUy 
in  a  few  days. — I  saw  your  father  two  or  three  days  back. 
He  is  looking  as  ever.  In  health  I  also  am  better.  Arthur 
is  now  at  Weybridge  seeing  his  mother  daily. — Your  ever 
faithful  and  affectionate  George  M. 


To  a  Friend, 

ESHER. 

...  As  to  the  temptation,  it  was  Eve's  own  doing,  born 
of  champagne  and  the  promptings  of  her  blood.  .  .  .  She 
is  a  well-meaning  girl.  Be  kind  to  her.  Do  not  grow 
ironical.  Forbear  from  satire  at  tender  intervals.  Make 
her  believe  (she  will  so  readily  !)  that  she  is  never  ridi- 
culous, or  that  you  never  see  it,  which  is  a  subtler  flattery  ; 
for  woman  is  cute,  and  Avould  rather  that  you  should 
have  the  bandage  on  your  eyes  than  that  she  should. 


42  LETTERS  OF  GEORGE  MEREDITH 

To  William  Hardman. 

CopsHAM,  Oct.  19,  1861. 

My  dear  Hardman, — How  can  I  thank  you  for  the 
trouble  you  take  !  Your  friend  Holroyd's  opinion  is 
worth  having  and  will  be  serviceable.  I  received  the 
Cartes-de-visite  on  the  day  I  was  quitting  Copsham  for 
Suffolk,  the  '  Giles  '  of  Counties  I  always  think,  where  I 
Uved  in  a  dumpling  state  for  a  week,  ^\1len  I  entered 
the  world  again  I  found  that  one  had  quitted  it  who  bore 
my  name  :  and  this  filled  my  mind  wdth  melancholy 
recollections  which  I  rarely  give  way  to.  My  dear  boy, 
fortunately,  will  not  feel  the  blow,  as  he  might  have  under 
different  circumstances.  I  tell  you  tliis  to  excuse  myself 
for  my  silence.  I  will  come  to-morrow,  if  you  please. 
I  have  an  engagement  in  town  to-night,  which  necessi- 
tates a  tail  coat,  so  do  not  be  frightened  when  you  see 
me,  nor  stand  in  awe,  nor  strive  to  emulate.  I  hope  for 
music  for  which  I  have  a  great  longing. 

I  am  engaged  getting  ready  a  volume  of  poems.  If 
I  had  a  piano,  and  my  rooms  here  were  only  a  little  bigger 
than  yourself  and  Mrs.  Hardman,  I  would  have  the 
audacity  to  ask  you  to  come.  The  dread  of  my  soul  is 
the  evening  !  How  shall  a  poor  guest  be  amused  here  ? 
Yet  is  November  fine  :  a  great  observer,  old,  shrewd,  un- 
erring, said  to  me  once — '  I  always  take  my  holidaj^s  in 
November,  being  sure  of  a  greater  number  of  clear,  fine 
days  than  in  any  other  month.'  I  corroborate.  Tliink 
over  this  and  communicate  with  me.  To  Mrs.  Hardman 
I  could  say  that  in  November,  she  being  well  wrapped  up, 
might  even  enjoy  the  late  autumn  sunshine. 

William  Hardman,  a  hamster,  subsequently  chairman  of 
Surrey  quarter-sessions,  and  later  editor  of  the  Morning 
Post,  had  lately  taken  for  one  summer  a  country  cottage 
near  Esher.     Widely  read,  with  a  large  circle  of  friends,  a 


LETTERS  OF  GEORGE  MEREDITH  43 

cheerful  outlook  upon  the  world,  and  a  keen  sense  of  humour, 
mated,  moreover,  with  a  lady  in  whom  personal  beauty  was 
combined  with  musical  tastes  and  rare  personal  charm,  his 
hospitality  was  a  welcome  social  tonic,  and  close  hfelong 
friendsliip  resulted. 

To  William  Hardman.  „  ^  ,„„, 

COPSHAM,  ESHER,  18G1. 

My  dear  HARDMAif, — Most  certainly  I  will  come  with 
very  great  pleasure  ;  bringing  my  bag  to  show  that  I  am 
in  earnest  about  a  bed.  By  the  way,  do  you  know,  it 
is  dangerous  to  ask  poets  to  sleep  at  a  house  ?  You  ask 
them  to  dine,  never  to  sleep,  for  if  you  do  so  it  means 
they  are  only  to  be  got  rid  of  by  a  ruse.  Numerous  cases 
might  be  cited.     How,  if  I  tax  your  ingenuity  ? 

I  see  '  The  Silver  Cord '  ^  reviewed  in  the  '  Saturday  ' 
and,  as  I  think,  fairly.  But  it  is  a  question  whetiier 
Brooks  is  still  young  enough  to  feel  that.  Please  do  not 
spare  him  yourself,  but  put  him  on  his  mettle,  and  his 
next  work  will  be  capital. 

I  am  exceedingly  sorry  to  lose  you  both.     I  can  only 

hope  that  you  will,   whenever  you  think  proper,  come 

to  this  humble  place  as  frankly  as  I  accept  the  opening 

to  your 

HOSPITABLE   TOWN  MANSION! 

6  o'clock  is  an  excellent  hour,  and  I  have  just  enough 
faith  in  my  appetite  and  honour  to  say  that  I  will  be 
punctual. 

My  little  man  says  he  hopes  he  shall  see  you  and 
Mrs.  Hardman  here  soon.  He  also  mutters  something 
about  '  Pantomime  '  which  I  cannot  comprehend.  We 
both  send  greetings  to  Mrs.  Hardman,  whose  behaviour 
in  the  boat,  let  me  add,  has  proved  her  to  be  a  companion 
of  men. 

1  The  Silver  Chord,  by  C.  W.  Shirley  Brooks  (London,  Bradbury  and 
Evans,  1861). 


44  LETTERS  OF  GEORGE  MEREDITH 

To  the  Rev.  Augustus  Jesso'p'p?- 

CopsHAM  Cottage,  Eshek, 
SURKEY,  Nov.  13,  1861. 

My  dear  Sir, — I  have  received  your  letter.  Let  mo 
tell  you  at  once  that  I  feel  it  to  be  most  generous,  and 
I  should  be  glad  to  think  I  deserved  such  hearty  praise 
as  fully  as  I  do  the  censure.  But  on  that  point,  I  must 
be  allowed  to  give  you  two  or  three  words  of  explanation. 
Apropos  of  the  '  Rosanna,'  it  was  written  from  the 
Tyrol,  to  a  friend,  and  was  simply  a  piece  of  friendly  play. 
Which  should  not  have  been  published,  you  add  ?  Per- 
haps not,  but  it  pleased  my  friend,  and  the  short  passage 
of  description  was  a  literal  transcript  of  the  scene.  More- 
over, though  the  style  is  open  to  blame,  there  is  an  idea 
running  through  the  verses,  which,  while  I  was  rallying 
my  friend,  I  conceived  to  have  some  point  for  a  larger 
audience. 

It  is  true  that  I  have  fallen  from  what  I  once  hoped  to 
do.  The  fault  is  hardly  mine.  Do  you  know  Vexation, 
the  slayer  ?  There  is  very  little  poetry  to  be  done  when 
one  is  severely  and  incessantly  harassed.  My  nerves 
have  given  way  under  it,  and  it  is  only  by  great  care 
and  attention  to  the  directions  of  my  doctor,  that  I 
can  work  at  all. — I  have  now  more  leisure  and  somewhat 
better  health,  and  the  result  is,  that  I  have  gone  back 
partially  to  my  old  mistress. 

As  to  my  love  for  the  Muse,  I  really  think  that  is 
earnest  enough.  I  have  all  my  life  done  battle  m  her 
behalf,  and  should,  at  one  time,  have  felt  no  blessing  to 
be  equal  to  the  liberty  to  serve  her.  Praise  sings  strangely 
in  my  cars.  I  have  been  virtually  propelled  into  a 
practical  turn,  by  the  lack  of  encouragement  for  any 

^  Iloadmastfir  of  King  Edward  vi.  Grammar  School,  Norwich  ; 
later,  Ctuion  of  Norwich.  Author  of  Our.  Oencration  of  a  Norfolk  House, 
Trials  of  a  Country  Parson,  etc. 


LETTERS  OF  GEORGE  MEREDITH  45 

other  save  practical  work.  1  have  no  doubt  that  it  has 
done  me  good,  though  the  pleasure  your  letter  gives  me, 
and  let  me  sa}^  also  the  impetus,  is  a,  proof  that  I  should 
have  flourished  better  under  a  less  rigorous  system. 

If  you  do  me  the  favour  to  look  at  '  Once  a  Week  ' 
during  the  next  two  months,  you  will  see  some  poems  of 
mine  that  are  of  another  cast.  The  '  Cassandra,'  you 
will  see,  is  as  severe  in  rhythm  as  you  could  wish.  But 
one  result  of  my  hard  education  since  the  publication  of 
my  boy's  book  in  '51  (those  poems  were  written  before  I 
v/as  twenty)  has  been  that  I  rarely  write  save  from  the 
suggestion  of  something  actually  observed.  I  mean,  that 
T  rarely  write  verse.  Thus  m_y  Jugglers,  Beggars,  etc., 
1  have  met  on  the  road,  and  have  idealized  but  slightly. 
I  desire  to  strike  the  poetic  spark  out  of  absolute  human 
clay.  And  in  doing  so  I  ha,ve  the  fancy  that  I  do  solid 
work — better  than  a  carol  in  mid  air.  Note  the  '  Old 
Chartist,'  and  the  '  Patriot  Engineer,'  that  will  also 
appear  in  '  Once  a  Week.'  They  may  not  please  you, 
but  I  think  3^ou  will  admit  that  they  have  a  truth  con- 
densed in  them.  They  are  flints  perhaps,  and  not 
flowers.  Well,  I  think  of  publishing  a  volume  of  Poems 
in  the  begiiming  of  '62,  and  I  will  bring  as  many  flowers 
to  it  as  I  can.  It  may  be,  that  in  a  year  or  two  I  shall 
find  time  for  a  full  sustamed  Song.  Of  course  I  do  not 
think  of  binding  down  the  Muse  to  the  study  of  facts. 
That  is  but  a  part  of  her  work.  The  worst  is,  that,  having 
taken  to  prose  delineations  of  character  and  hfe,  one's 
affections  are  divided.  I  have  now  a  prose  damsel  cr3'ing 
out  to  me  to  have  her  history  completed  ;  and  the 
creatures  of  a  novel  are  bubbhng  up  ;  and  in  truth,  being 
a  servant  of  the  pubhc,  I  must  v/ait  till  my  master  com- 
mands before  I  take  seriously  to  singing. 

This  is  a  long  letter  for  a  man  to  write  about  himself  ; 
and  it  is  the  first  time  I  have  been  guilty  of  such  a  thing. 


46  LETTERS  OF  GEORGE  MEREDITH 

It  has  not  been  possible  for  me  to  reply  to  you  in  any 
other  way. 

I  will  conclude  by  saying  that,  whenever  you  are  in 
London,  if  you  are  to  visit  me,  it  will  give  me  great 
pleasure  to  welcome  you.  I  must  warn  you  that  my 
cottage  has  very  much  the  appearance  of  a  natural  pro- 
duct of  the  common  on  which  it  stands,  '  far  from  resort 
of  men.'  But  I  can  give  you  a  bed  and  good  cookery, 
of  its  kind.  In  the  winter  it  will  be  difficult  to  tempt 
friends  to  meet  you.  In  the  summer  they  find  the  place 
pleasant,  and  believe  me,  I  shall  hold  it  an  honour  if 
you  will  take  rank  among  them. 


To  Mrs.  Janet  Ross. 

COPSHAM,  ESHER,  Nov.  19,  1861. 

My  very  dear  Janet, — I  plead  ill  health  :  I  plead 
vexation,  occupation,  general  insuificiency  :  I  plead 
absence  from  home,  absence  from  my  proper  mind,  and 
a  multitude  of  things  :  and  now  I  am  going  to  pay  my 
debts.  But  are  not  my  letters  really  three  single  gentle- 
men rolled  into  one  ?  This  shall  count  for  ten.  Now 
the  truth  is  that  my  Janet  is,  by  her  poet  at  least,  much 
more  thought  of  when  he  doesn't  write  to  her  than  when 
he  does.  Vulgar  comparisons  being  always  the  most 
pungent,  I  will  say,  Lo,  the  Epicurean  to  whom  his  feast 
is  still  in  prospect  :  he  dreams  of  it  :  it  rises  before  him 
in  a  thousand  hues  and  salutes  his  nostril  with  scents 
heavenly.    He  dines.    'Tis  gone.    'Tis  in  the  past  and  with 

it  go  his  rosy  visions. — Your  P.  G.,  to  wit  H ,  I  saw 

him  the  other  day,  and  shall  probably  dine  with  him  on 
Thursday — Quoth  I,  at  a  period  of  our  interview — Have 

you,  0  H replied  duly  to  the  fair  Alexandrienne  ? 

Then  w^ent  he  through  much  pantomime,  during  my  just 
reproaches,  and  took  your  address — which  may  be  an 


LETTERS  OF  GEORGE  MEREDITH  47 

excellent  P.  G.  performance,  and  no  more.  You  will  see. 
He  is  in  new  chambers  full  of  pictures,  Old  Masters,  we 
hear.  For  a  fine  putative  Leonardo  he  disbursed  recently 
£400.  And  Sir  Charles  Eastlake  said — never  mind  what. 
Then,  too,  a  Masaecio  for  which  he  gave  £19.  7s.  6|d., 
was  Exhibited  at  the  British  Institution  and  the  papers 
took  note  of  nothing  else.  And  Sir  Charles  Eastlake  said 
— as  before. 

H is  a  good  old  boy.     He  has  a  pleasant  way  of 

being  inquisitive  and  has  already  informed  me,  quite 
agreeably,  that  I  am  a  gentleman,  though  I  may  not  have 
been  born  one.  Some  men  are  alwa37s  shooting  about 
you  like  May  files  in  little  quick  darts,  to  see  how  near 
you  they  may  come.  The  best  thing  is  to  smile  and 
enjoy  the  fun  of  it.  I  confess  a  private  preference  for 
friends  who  are  not  thus  afflicted,  and  get  the  secret 
by  instinct.  As  my  Janet  does,  for  instance. — The  dear 
indifferent  Bart.  I  meet  occasionally  ;  in  the  train,  or 
on  lonely  Celia  ;  looking  as  if  he  bore  with  life,  but 
had  not  the  exact  reason  for  his  philosophy  handy.  He 
speaks  out  hke  a  man  concerning  your  husband,  and  I 
should  wish  every  husband  to  have  a  father-in-law  who 
appreciates  him  as  heartily.  Your  Motlier's  Diary  will 
not,  I  suppose,  reach  you  before  this  letter.  On  the 
whole  it  is  very  hopeful.  Secondly,  it  is  immensely 
amusing,  and  shows  her  fine  manly  nature  admirably. 
0  what  a  gallant  soul  she  is  !  and  how  very  much  I  love 
her  !  I  had  only  time  during  the  passage  of  the  train 
to  read  it,  and  couldn't  get  to  the  end.  As  yet  the  voyage 
has  wrought  no  cure  :  but  the  change  and  the  sea-breeze 
and  shaking  have  done  good  and  produced  favourable 
excitement.  I  have  new  friends  whom  I  like,  and  don't 
object  to  call  by  name.  A  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Hardman  I  met 
in  Esher  this  autumn.  She  is  very  pleasant,  and  is  one 
of  the  rare  women  who  don't  find  it  necessary  to  fluster 


48  LETTERS  OF  GEORGE  MEREDITH 

their  li^ex  under  your  nose  eternally,  in  order  to  make 
you  like  them.  I  gave  her  private's  rank  in  Janet's 
Amazonian  regiment,  with  chances  of  promotion.  Also 
he  is  a  nice  follow  :  a  barrister  who  does  photographs  ; 
of  bis  friends  principally.  On  the  other  hand,  let  me 
say,  that  I  went  (thinking  of  you  solely)  and  was  done 
the  other  day,  and  will  send  a  copy  to  you  immediately. 
It  looks  absurd  ;   but  I  must  conclude  it  faithful.  .  .  . 

You  have  had  particulars  of  our  travels  ;  at  least, 
items.  Munich  is  a  glorious  city  to  pass  through,  and 
the  Tyrol  a  wonderful  country  for  the  same.  I  had, 
the  truth  is,  a  miserable  walking  companion.  He 
couldn't  walk  in  the  sun  :  he  wouldn't  walk  after 
its  setting  :  the  rain  he  shunned  as  if  he  had  been 
dog-bitten — in  fact,  he  was  a  double-knapsack  on 
my  back.  Certainly  the  heat  was  tremendous.  The 
Tyrolean  men  are  the  handsomest  I  have  seen  :  the 
women  the  ughest.  The  Alps  gave  me  shudderings  of 
delight ;  but  I  did  not  see  enough  of  them,  and  I  can't 
bear  being  coop'd  long  in  those  mountain-guarded 
valleys  ;  so  I  shot  through  them  in  two  weeks,  and 
then  saw  Italy  for  the  first  time,  emerging  by  Adige, 
which  the  Austrians  are  fortifying  continuaUy.  Verona 
Ues  just  under  the  Alps,  and  is  now  less  a  City  than  a 
fortress.  You  see  nothing  but  white  coats — who  form 
the  majority  of  the  inhabitants.  The  little  man  ^  asked 
innumerable  questions  about  the  amphitheatre,  and  the 
gladiators,  the  shows,  and  the  Roman  customs.     Thence 

to  Venice,  where  he  and  I  were  alone — W parting  for 

Como  and  his  mother.  Our  life  in  Venice  was  charming. 
Only  I  had  to  watch  the  dear  boy  like  tutor,  governess, 
courier,  in  one  ;  and  couldn't  get  much  to  the  pictures  ; 
for  there  was  no  use  in  victimising  liim  and  dragging  him 
to  see  them,  and  I  couldn't  quit  him  at  all.     We  hired  a 

*  Axthur. 


LETTERS  OF  GEORGE  MEREDITH  49 

Gondola  and  floated  through  the  streets  at  night,  or  out 
to  Malamocco  to  get  the  fresh  breeze.  A  fresh  Levant 
wind  favoured  our  visit.  To  the  Lido  we  went  every 
morning  :  Arthur  and  I  bathing — behold  us  for  a  solid 
hour  under  enormous  straw-hats  floating  and  splashing 
in  the  dehcious  Adriatic.  The  difficulty  of  getting  him 
out  of  it  was  great.  '  Papa,  what  a  dear  old  place  this 
is  !  We  won't  go,  will  we  ?  '  I  met  and  made  acquaint- 
ance with  some  nice  fellows  (Austrians)  in  the  water. 
The  Italian  fish  are  not  to  be  found  where  they  are. 
Venice  looks  draped,  and  wears  her  widow's  weeds  osten- 
tatiously. Our  Gondolier,  Lorenzo,  declared  that  he 
had  seen  Lor  Birren,  when  a  boy.  '  Palazzo  Mocenigo, 
Signer  Ecco  !  '  On  the  Lido  one  thinks  sadly  of  Byron 
and  Shelley.  I  found  the  spot  Shelley  speaks  of  in 
'  JuHan  and  Maddalo,'  where  he  saw  the  Vicenza  hills 
in  the  sunset  through  the  bell-tower  where  the  lunatics 
abide,  on  an  island.  Of  the  glories  of  St.  Mark's  who 
shall  speak.  It  is  poetry,  my  dear,  and  will  be  expressed 
in  no  other  way.  In  Venice  I  learnt  to  love  Giorgione, 
Titian  and  Paul  Veronese.  I  cannot  rank  Tintoret  with 
them  (Ruskin  puts  him  highest)  though  his  single  work 
shows  greater  grasp  and  stretch  of  soul.  Viermese 
crinoline  and  the  tj^rant  white  coat  do  their  best  to  destroy 
the  beauties  of  St.  Mark's.  Charming  are  the  Venetian 
women  !  They  have  a  gracious  walk  and  all  the  manner 
one  dreams  of  as  befitting  them.  Should  one  smile  on 
a  Whitecoat,  she  has  the  prospect  of  a  patriotic  dagger 
smiting  her  fair  bosom,  and  so  she  does  not ;  though 
the  Austrians  are  fine  men,  and  red-hot  exclusiveness 
for  an  abstract  idea  sits  not  easy  on  any  ladies  of  any 
land  for  longer  than — say  a  fortnight.  Consequently 
Vienna  sends  Crinoline  to  her  children.  I  made  acquaint- 
ance with  a  tough  Baronno,  who  had  brought  two 
daughters  of  immense  circle  !     How  quietly  the  pretty 

VOL.  I. — D 


50  LETTERS  OF  GEORGE  MEREDITH 

Venetians  eyed  them  !  The  square  of  St.  Mark's  is  the 
great  parade. — The  weather  was  fiery  :  but  we  had  no 
mosquitos. — jNIilan  is,  for  heat,  next  door  to  Pande- 
monium.    The  view  from  the  Cathedral  you  have  heard 

of.     I  went  to  Como  to  see  W ,  who  was  with  II 

Principessa.  She  received  me  affably  at  the  Villa — 
Villa  Ciani,  pres  d'Este.  She  has  a  handsome  daughter, 
fair  as  a  highborn  Enghsh  girl,  engaged  then,  and  since 

married,  to  General  T .     Madame  la  Princesse  will 

be  Mdme.  la  Princesse,  and  desires  that  she  should  hear 
it  too,  as  I  quickly  discovered.  I  grew  in  favour.  She 
has  no  difficulty  in  swallowing  a  compliment.  Quantity 
is  all  she  asks  for.  This  is  entre  nous,  for  she  entertained 
me,  and  indeed  I  was  vastly  entertained.  Look  for  it 
all  in  a  future  chapter.  A  good  gross  compliment, 
fluently  delivered,  I  find  to  be  the  best  adapted  to  a 
Frenchwoman's  taste.  If  you  hesitate,  the  flavour 
evaporates  for  them.  Be  glib,  and  you  may  say  what 
you  please.  Should  you  in  addition,  be  neat,  and  ready, 
they  wdll  fall  in  love  with  you.  Mademoiselle  the  fiancee, 
perceived  that  I  was  taken  with  her  before  I  had  felt  it. 
Hence  she  distinguished  me,  till  the  General  came.  It 's 
a  real  love  match.  She  wouldn't  sing  then — couldn't. 
Nor  did  I  press  it :  for  Oh  ! — She  sings  in  the  rapid 
French  style  :  all  from  the  throat  :  and  such  a  hard 
metallic  Giordigianic  rang  over  Como's  water  as  sure 
our    dear    old    Muddy    Mole    never    knew    of !     Young 

Captain  G ,  T 's  aide-de-camp,  and  I,   then  fell 

upon  the  Princess. 

King  Victor  gave  T some  royal  Tokay,  which  he 

brought  to  the  Villa,  and  we  were  merry  over  it.     I  like 

G ,  a  very  gallant  fellow  :  only  24,  and  served  through 

the  Hungarian  revolt,  and  all  the  Garibaldian  campaign. 

Before  dinner  we  all  bathed  in  Como,  ladies  and  gentle- 
men ensemble.     Really  pleasant  and  pastoral !     Mdlle, 


LETTERS  OF  GEORGE  MEREDITH  51 

swims  capitally  :  rides  and  drives  well ;  and  will  make 
a  good  hero's  wife.  She  scorns  the  English  for  their  bad 
manners,  she  told  me.  The  Emperor  allows  her  £1000  a 
year  :  her  mother  gets  £2000.     Vive  FEmpereur  !   .   .   . 

Thence  over  the  Mont  Cenis  to  Paris.  The  little  man 
was  in  raptures  at  the  thought  of  crossing  the  Alps.  He 
would  barely  close  his  eyes.  I  had  him  in  my  arms  in  the 
coupe  of  the  diligence,  and  then  ho  was  starting  up 
every  instant,  shouting,  and  crowing  till  dawn  ;  when 
I  had  no  chance  of  getting  him  to  sleep.  When  we 
reached  Macon  at  night  I  put  him  to  bed,  and  gave  him 
a  httle  weak  cofifee  in  bed.  He  slept  hke  a  top  till  morn- 
ing :  when  to  Paris,  which  you  know.  Arthur  was  im- 
patient to  be  home,  and  cared  little  for  Paris.  I  gave 
him  a  dinner  at  Vefours  and  at  the  Trois  Freres.  He 
appreciated  it  :  but  longed  for  England.  Paris  is  de- 
lightful !  Under  the  circumstances,  with  a  remonstrating 
little  man,  there  was  nothing  for  it  but  to  return  hastily. 
Thank  Heaven  !  I  got  him  home  safe — a  little  worn  : 
but  he  soon  got  over  that  and  has  improved  his  young 
mind  considerably.  The  journey  did  me  good.  I  am 
much  stronger,  and  am  beginning  to  be  able  to  work 
much  better,  but  have  to  be  careful. 

I  have  left  Emilia  Belloni  untouched  for  months  ;  and 
my  novel  is  where  it  was.  En  revanche,  I  am  busy  on 
Poems.  I  think  it  possible  I  shall  publish  a  small  volume 
in  the  winter,  after  Christmas.  I  have  had  letters  from 
strangers,  begging  me  to  do  so.  One  man,  headmaster 
of  a  Grammar  School, •••  writes  a  six-page  letter  of  remon- 
strance and  eulogy,  concluding,  '  I  have  often  said  I 
wished  to  see  3  men  before  I  died  :    Humboldt,  who  is 

gone:  Bunsen,  whom  I  had  the  fortune  to  meet:  and !' 

Guess,  my  dear  !     He  says  that  the  '  Enchantress  '  scene 
in  Rd.  Feverel  made  him  ill  for  24  hours  :  and  that  he  and 

^  Augustus  Jessopp. 


52  LETTERS  OF  GEORGE  MEREDITH 

his  friends  (Cambridge  men)  rank  me  next  to  Tennj^son 
in  poetic  power  :  and  so  forth.  I  tell  Janet  this,  because 
I  know  she  will  like  to  hear  it.  I  listen  to  it  merely  as 
a  sign  that  I  am  begimiing  to  be  a  httle  known.  The 
man  praises  my  first  book  of  verse,  which  I  would  have 
forgotten.  '  Grandfather  Bridgeman  ' — ^an  idyll :  true 
to  Enghsh  life,  and  containing  a  war  episode,  approved 
bj^  friends  who  have  heard  it ;  '  The  Old  Chartist,'  '  The 
Patriot  Engineer,'  '  Phantasy,'  '  A  Love-Match,'  and 
'  Cassandra  '  (about  to  be  illustrated  by  Rossetti),  are 
among  my  later  pieces.  When  these  are  out  I  shall  set 
myself  seriously  to  work  on  a  long  poem.  For  if  I  have 
the  power  to  do  it,  why  should  I  not  ?  I  am  engaged  in 
extra  pot-boiling  work,  which  enables  me  to  do  this  ; 
and  besides  I  can  sell  my  poems.  "What  do  you  think  ? 
Speak  on  this  point. 

My  housekeeper,  good  Miss  Grange,  has  just  had 
an  ojffer  from  Claremont  to  go  and  attend  the  Prmcess 
Fran9oise  :  and  I  am  afraid  she  '11  go  ;  which  will  be  a 
complete  upset  here  :  for  she  's  an  invaluable  person  : 
excellent  temper,  spotless  principles,  indefatigable  worker, 
no  sex  :  thoughtful,  prudent,  and  sensible.  Where  shall 
I  get  such  another  ?  Of  course  I  can't  advise  her  to 
stay.  It 's  a  terrible  bother, — ^They  have  been  huntmg 
a  little  ;  but  the  Prince  de  Joinville  has  not  yet  returned 
from  America,  so  not  much  is  done  in  that  way.  What 
do  you  think  of  the  Comte  de  Paris'  step  ?  I  can  excuse 
him  better  than  his  adviser.  He  was  courteous  and  kind 
to  me  here  (Maxsc  introduced  me),  and  so  I  wish  him 
well — and  therefore  weU  out  of  it. — Let  me  hear  what 
you  think  of  Buckle,  who  has  become  a  topic. 

My  dear  !  the  well  is  not  empty,  but  the  bucket  kicks. 
I  have  some  things  to  do  before  I  speak  of  them ;  but  I 
dare  say  I  shall  see  you  before  I  offer  you  your  wedding 
preserit,     I  hate  offering  mere  jewelry.     I  have  thought 


LETTERS  OF  GEORGE  MEREDITH  63 

of  half  a  dozen  things  :  but  your  mother's  ilhiess  and 
inabiUty  to  go  to  London  prevented  the  Ukehest.  I  have 
sent  books,  etc.  to  Sir  Alec  to  forward  when  he  can.  Be 
sure  my  heart  is  very  faithfully  with  you.  You  know 
I  approve  of  the  man  you  have  chosen  so  much  that  I 
pardon  him  his  mortal  ofiFence, — Talking  of  that,  Alice, 

who  was  P ,  writes  to  her  father  from  S.  of  France, 

that  she  '  thinks  marriage  a  fine  institution,  and  wonders 
who  invented  it."  I  heard  this  repeated  before  some 
men,  who  thought  it  fast,  and  clever, — May  all  good  be 
with  you  and  j^ours  ! 

Frederick  Chapman  is  just  married. — Your  book  is 
being  well  reviewed.  I  hope  Lewis  will  do  it  in  the 
*  Saturday.' 


To  a  Friend  engaged  to  he  married. 

COPSHAM,  ESHER,  SURREY,  1881. 

My    dear    ,    '  Tannhauser '    was    in    yesterday's 

*  Post,'  and  exceedingly  well  done.  I  read  the  extracts 
also.  They  produce  on  me  the  effect,  after  three  hnes,  of 
too  much  sugar  on  the  palate  :  something  rich,  certainly, 
but  of  a  base  richness.  I  don't  agree  with  you  that  they 
have  brought  Venus  sensibly  to  the  reader  at  all,  tho' 
it 's  fair  to  say  that  with  Elizabeth  it  is  less  so  than  Venus. 
The  former  is  a  prim  good  miss,  a  shrew  when  in  a  passion  ; 
she  quite  justifies  (to  me)  Tannhauser's  choice  of  the 
dear  voluptuous  Goddess  whom  they  call  such  naughty 
names,  and  who,  I  begin  to  tliink,  is  the  favourite  daughter 
of  Mother  Earth. 

This  to  you,  who  are  in  love,  and  well  in  love  ! — Do 
you  know,  I  have  seldom  seen  anything  with  so  much 
pleasure  as  your  honest,  modest,  manly  love  for  her. 
You  don't  tire  me  in  teUing  me  about  it,  and  of  3'our 


54  LETTERS  OF  GEORGE  MEREDITH 

feelings,  and  your  thoughts  about  her.  The  fonder  and 
the  deeper  your  emotions  reach,  the  more  I  see  and 
admire  the  large  nature  you  are  gifted  with. 

I  trust  it  may  be  that  Heaven  brings  the  other  half  of 
her.  She  is,  I  am  sure,  a  very  sv/eet  person  :  but  how 
strong  she  is,  or  can  be  made,  my  instinct  does  not  fathom. 
I  am  so  miserably  constituted  now  that  I  can't  love  a 
woman  if  I  do  not  feel  her  soul,  and  that  there  is  force 
therein  to  wrestle  with  the  facts  of  life  (called  the  Angel 
of  the  Lord).  But  I  envy  those  who  are  attracted  by 
what  is  given  to  the  eye  ; — yes,  even  those  who  have  a 
special  taste  for  woman  flesh,  and  this  or  that  particular 
Mttle  tit-bit — I  envy  them  !  It  lasts  not  beyond  an 
hour  with  me. 

Happy  you  with  aU  the  colour  of  Ufe  about  you  ! 
Has  she  principle  ?  Has  she  any  sense  of  responsibility  ? 
Has  she  courage  ?  Enough  that  you  love  her.  I  believe 
that  this  plan  of  taking  a  woman  on  the  faith  of  a  mighty 
wish  for  her,  is  the  best,  and  the  safest  wa}''  to  find  the 
jewel  we  are  all  in  search  of.  As  to  love  '  revealing  ' 
all  the  qualities  in  one  great  flash — do  you  beheve  it 
even  in  your  present  state  ?  Still  of  so  fair  and  exquisite 
a  person  it  is  just  to  augur  hopefully  ;  and  when  one 
comes  to  read  her  face,  surely  that  is  a  book  with  plates 
of  virgin  silver.  Well !  of  her  face  I  will  tell  you,  without 
trying  to  make  you  too  happy,  that  I  don't  know  any  face 
the  memory  of  which  leaves  with  me  the  unique  im- 
pression of  music  so  completely.  There  is  that  softness 
in  the  cui'ves,  and  purity  of  look,  which  move  like  music 
in  my  mind. 

As  to  her  singing  quahtics,  that  is  another  matter, 
and  really  I  had  forgotten.  But  on  coming  to  consider 
this,  there  's  something  right  in  one — a  woman — who 
knows  her  capabihties  to  be  not  brilliant,  sitting  down 
to  do  her  duty  at  the  piano  to  pass  the  evening  properly. 


LETTERS  OF  GEORGE  MEREDITH  55 

Some  fair  ones  would  have  declined  resolutely.  For  my 
part  I  like  simple,  gentle,  unpretending  songs,  and  shall 
be  always  glad  of  the  privilege  of  hearing  them. 

Health  somewhat  better.  Working  on  pomes.  You 
will  find  some  alterations,  much  for  the  better,  I 
think. 

Rossetti  admires  your  beloved,  tho'  she  has  not  green 
eyes  and  carrots  ;  which,  I  tell  him,  astonishes  me. 

He  sent  me  a  book  of  MSS.  original  poetry  the  other  day, 
and  very  fuie  are  some  of  the  things  in  it.  He  is  a  poet, 
without  doubt.  He  would  please  you  more  than  I  do, 
or  can,  for  he  deals  with  essential  poetry,  and  is  not  wild, 
and  bluff,  and  coarse  ;  but  rich,  refined,  royal-robed  ! 
Swinburne  read  me  the  other  day  his  French  novel  *  La 
Fille  du  Pohceman  '  :  the  funniest  rampingest  satire  on 
French  novelists  deahng  with  Enghsh  themes  that  you 
can  imagme.  One  chapter,  '  Ce  qui  pent  se  passer 
dans  un  Cab  Safety,'  where  Lord  Whitestick,  Bishop  of 
Londres,  ravishes  the  heroine,  is  quite  marvellous.  But 
he  is  not  subtle  ;  and  I  don't  see  any  internal  centre 
from  which  springs  any  tiling  that  he  does.  He  will 
make  a  great  name,  but  whether  he  is  to  distinguish 
himself  solidly  as  an  Artist,  I  would  not  willmgly  prog- 
nosticate. 

Rossetti  is  going  to  illustrate  my  Cassandra,  which 
pome  has  taken  his  heart. 

I  am  obliged  to  make  money  as  I  can,  to  meet 
these  new  claims  on  me,  and  so  all  my  pieces  must  be 
pubHshed  before  they  're  collected.  Your  name,  you 
know,  may  bo  withheld  from  the  Dedication  then  if 
you  please. 


66  LETTERS  OF  GEORGE  MEREDITH 

To  William  Hardman. 

EsHER,  Nov.  25,  1861. 

My  dear  Hardman, — Stop  !  What  do  you  mean  by 
smoking  |  a  dozen  cigars  of  the  Holy  Man  in  solitary 
enjoyment.  Give  mito  thy  brother  a  chance  of  con- 
version, even  upon  Friday  evening  next.  And  wOI  you 
have  my  glove  in  Gordon  Street  ?  'Twill  save  me  2s., 
which  is,  to  a  poet,  no  mean  sum.  I  suppose  Mrs.  Hard- 
man  has  gone.  I  hope  she  will  not  have  trouble.  When 
she  returns,  may  Copsham  hail  you  both  !  We  have  all 
weathers  here.     I  am  at  my  Pomes. 

PS. — Did  not  the  telegram  read  as  if  the  Northerners 
had  got  another  licking  ? 

To  Captain  Maxse. 

Copsham,  Esher, 

My  dear  Maxse, — You  knew  how  glad  it  would  make 
me  to  hear  the  good  news,  and  I  thank  you  for  making 
me  feel  that  she  does  not  take  you  away  from  those  who 
love  you.  I  don't  think  there  will  be  a  war.  I  don't 
even  think  that  the  withdrawal  of  our  Ambassador  would 
give  the  signal  for  one.  In  any  case  there  can  be  no 
reason  why  you  should  go.  Dismiss  the  notion.  A  war 
with  France  would  tax  all  the  energies  of  this  country. 
AU  would  have  to  serve.  ...  So  be  married  quickly  to 
that  dear  and  sweet  person  who  is  to  make  you  happy, 
I  doubt  not.  I  look  at  her  and  should  envy  you,  if  I 
did  not  feel  for  her  through  your  heart. — I  mean  the 
photograph,  which  I  prize. — De  Stendhal  I  have  had 
to  send  to  Paris  for.  You  will  have  '  L'Amour  '  in  a 
week.  I  told  them  (Hachette)  to  send  it  to  you,  from 
me.  Write  as  often  as  you  can  spare  time.  Give  her 
my  kindest  salute  and  know  me,  your  loving 

George  M. 


LETTERS  OF  GEORGE  MEREDITH  57 

I  have  done  a  great  deal  of  the  '  Love-Match.'  Ros- 
setti  says  it 's  my  best.  I  contrast  it  mentally  with 
yours,  which  is  so  very  much  better  ! 

To  Captain  Maxse. 

London,  1861. 

My  dear  Maxse, — I  wiU  come.  So  shall  the  little 
man.  I  hate  wedding-breakfasts,  which  make  one  take 
wine  and  eat  I  don't  know  what  at  unholy  seasons  of 
the  day,  and  are  such  a  stupid  exhibition  of  the  couple. 

Tell  me  when  you  think  it  may  take  place,  that  I  may 
keep  all  clear  for  that  day.  I  'm  sure  you  're  going  to 
be  happy,  and  I  'm  like  Keats  and  the  nightingale — 
'  happy  in  your  happiness.' — I  wonder,  now,  whether  any 
nice  woman  will  ever  look  on  me  ? — I  certainly  begin  to 
feel  new  life.  Also  a  power  of  work,  which  means  money. 
There  is  evidently  great  folly  kindling  in  me.  All  the 
effect  of  example  ! 

I  have  matters  in  hand,  which  you  will  like,  I  think. 
They  won't  drag  you  down  to  the  Roadside  and  the 
haunts  of  vagabonds  ! 

How  do  you  like  de  Stendhal  ?  L'Amour  ought  not 
to  be  dissected,  and  indeed  can't  be.  For  when  we  've 
killed  it  with  this  object,  the  spirit  flies,  and  then  where 
is  L'Amour  ?  StiU  I  think  de  Stendhal  very  subtle  and 
observant.  He  goes  over  ground  that  I  know.  Let  me 
hear. — I  bow  to  your  lovely  bride.  The  photograph  is 
not  just  to  her.  All  blessings  on  you  both  ! — Your 
loving,  George  M. 

To  the  Rev.  Augustus  Jessopp. 

CopsHAM  Cottage,  EsnEB,  Nov.  27. 
My  dear  Sir, — I  know  Souvestre  tolerably  well,  and 
have  not  hitherto  cared  much  about  him.     Some  of  his 


58  LETTERS  OF  GEORGE  MEREDITH 

Breton  Sketches  I  have  found  repulsive.  But  I  thank 
you  for  your  edition,  which  has  been  forwarded  to  me  in 
your  name,  and  I  will  read  the  story  you  indicate. 

As  I  said,  my  cottage  here  is  of  the  very  humblest 
kind  :  so  much  so  that  I  hesitate  to  ask  ladies  to  come 
to  it,  though  there  are  some  who  do  me  that  honour.  You 
will  find  me  about  as  plain  a  man  as  you  could  meet.  I 
do  not  know  many  literary  men  myself  :  those  I  do  know 
are  among  the  best :  and  they  are  not  guilty  of  over- 
bearing briUiancy  at  all  : — unless,  haply,  one  should  be 
conscious  of  a  sucking  Boswell  at  the  elbow,  which  is  a 
rare  case,  and  is  possibly  seductive.  The  general  feeling 
is,  that  it  is  best  to  let  '  good  things  '  come  as  they  may, 
and  thus  the  best  point  of  breeding  attained  :  all  have 
even  chance,  and  one  man  does  not  draw  a  reputation  at 
the  expense  of  the  others.  Believe  me,  I  have  as  great 
a  respect  for  a  good  scholar,  as  you  have  for  a  man  who 
writes  books. 


To  William  Hardman. 

CopsHAJi,  Dec.  17,  1861. 

Dear  Hardman, — Rossetti  talks  of  meeting  good 
fellows  on  Thursday  evening.  Therefore,  do  not  take 
stalls  anywhere  or  make  engagements  till  you  are  cock- 
sure you  would  not  rather  go  to  the  artists.  It  has 
struck  me  that  Schubert  meant  that  words  should  be 
affixed  to  the  Introduction  to  the  Addio.  K  moment's 
reflection  supphes  them,  e.g. 

tum  tum  tum  turn  de  turn  measure. 

Don't  you  see  it  ?  With  this  warning,  you  and  I  and 
many  a  poor  devil  might  have  been  on  our  guard.  Per- 
haps safe  !  which  to  contemplate  is  wondrous.     At  any 


LETTERS  OF  GEORGE  MEREDITH  59 

rate,  I  think  our  sex  ought  to  demand  to  have  it  sung  as 
a  piece  of  preUminarj^  fair  play. — Your  faithful 

George  Meredith. 


To  the  Rev.  Augustus  Jessopp. 

CopsH.ui  Cottage 
Dec.  20,  1861. 

My  dear  Sir, — How  happy  you  that  have  a  Pallas  ! 
I  will  not  envy  you.  I  will  hope  that  she  also  will  visit 
me  in  the  flesh.  She  is  not  supposed  to  visit  poets  in  the 
spirit. 

Apropos  of  her  poetical  counsel,  is  she  adapting  her 
wisdom  to  the  mind  of  the  British  matron,  and  of  the 
snuffling  morahst  so  powerful  among  us  1  Does  she  know 
that  my  literarj^  reputation  is  tabooed  as  worse  than 
Ubertine  in  certain  virtuous  Societies  ?  .  .  .  that  there 
have  been  meetings  to  banish  me  from  book-clubs  ? 
And  that  Pater  famihas  has  given  Mr.  Mudie  a  vers' 
large  bit  of  his  petticoated  mind  concerning  me  ? — These 
are  matters  to  be  thought  over.  In  the  way  of  Art  I 
never  stop  to  consider  what  is  admissible  to  the  narrow 
minds  of  the  dra\sdng-room.  But  is  it  well  to  call  up 
what  is  marked  for  obhvion  ?  Isn't  it  a  sort  of  chal- 
lenge ;   and  an  umiecessary  one  ? 

I  think  I  will  not  pubHsh  in  MacmiHan,  seeing  that 
my  volume  is  shortly  to  appear.  I  have  had  a  suggestion 
to  that  effect,  once  or  twice,  from  a  brother-in-law  of 
Macmillan's. 

I  can  only  regret  that  the  weather  was  so  bad  when 
you  were  with  me,  and  trust  it  will  be  brighter  v/hen 
you  next  do  me  the  favour  to  com.e. — Your  faithful 

George  Meredith. 


60  LETTERS  OF  GEORGE  MEREDITH 

To  Captain  Maxse. 

LoNDOX,  Jan.  1862. 

My  dear  ]\Iaxse, — I  send  you  a  portion  of  proofs  of 
the  Tragedy  of  Modem  Love.  There  are  wantmg  to 
complete  it,  13  more  sonnets. 

Please  read,  and  let  me  have  the  honest  judgment. 
"When  done  with,  return.  This  poem  will  come  in  the 
middle  of  the  book. 

I  called  on  Borthwick  ^  to-day,  but  could  not  see  him. 
I  shall  call  again  to-day,  if  possible.     If  not,  next  week. 

I  say,  you  'U  review  my  Poems  in  the  M.  Post  ?  You 
may  flog  me,  too,  if  the  prompting  comes  to  do  it. 

I  suppose  the  book  will  be  out  in  six  weeks. — Who 
was  right  about  the  Yankees  ? 

How  are  you,  my  dear  fellow  ?  I  feel  rather  anxious 
to  know,  and  but  that  I  'm  in  such  a  mess  and  might 
stumble  across  some  of  your  people,  I  would  call. 

By  the  way,  tell  me,  do  army  men — ensigns,  fight  in 
undress  uniform  ?  Did  any  at  Inkermann  ?  Or  is  the 
fuU  dress  de  rigueur  ? — Your  faithful 

George  Meredith. 

To  William  Hardman. 

Jan.  8,  1862. 

My  dear  Hard:man, — Again  cruel  Fate  has  deferred 
the  junction  of  our  loving  couple.  He  has  got  her  cold  ; 
*  through  sympathy,'  ho  says.  They  communicate  their 
tender  impressions  in  sneezes.  Morris,  you  may  re- 
member, sings  of  'Two  red  roses  across  the  Moon,'  but 
seems  to  think  that  two  red  noses  across  a  honey- 
moon would  spoil  the  lustre  of  the  orb.  He  may  be  right. 
On  purely  material  grounds,  and  apart  from  sentiment, 
1  should  say  that  where  a  sneeze  is  to  be  apprehended 

'  Algernon  Borthwick — later  Lord  GloncsU,  and  owner  of  the 
Morning  Post. 


LETTERS  OF  GEORGE  MEREDITH  61 

it  is  better  to  hold  back.  Picture  it  to  yourself  !  It 
is  a  very  butchering  of  Cupid.  I  presume  you  come  on 
Saturday.  I  had  arranged  for  the  Virtues  to  lunch  here, 
and  for  us  to  walk  back  with  them  and  dine,  this  Saturday. 
It  may  be  arranged  a  fortnight  subsequently.  .  ,  . 

Sons  have  been  over  to  Oatlands.  His  love  is  sent  to 
NeUie  :  but  just  at  present  I  think  she  must  consent 
to  share  it  with  Miss  V.  who  is  in  the  ascendant. 

Jessopp  comes  next  week.  He  has  asked  me  whether 
I  taboo  tobacco  ?  Tore  God  !  This  is  of  noble  augury  ! 
Wliat  say  you  ? 


To  Mrs.  Janet  Ross. 

CoPSHAJVi  Cottage, 
EsHEE,  Feb.  15,  1862. 

My  dear  Janet, — ^You  come  in  April.  You  are  even 
now  packing  and  preparing,  and  your  heart  is  bounding 
for  England.  So  I  will  hope  the  best  of  you,  my  dear 
child,  though  your  letters  have  saddened  me  and  I  see 
that  your  physical  condition  is  lowered.  I  never  liked 
the  climate  for  j^ou,  though  I  perfectly  approved  of  the 
husband.  After  all,  it 's  merely  a  probation,  not  a  settle- 
ment. There  has  been  little  hunting  here  this  whiter 
owing  to  the  absence  of  the  Princess  of  Orleans.  The 
weather  is  good  for  it ;  the  frosts  are  short,  and  the 
ground  soft  and  wet,  and  not  too  much  so. — Haven't 
you  heard  from  the  P.G.  A'et  ?  He  said  he  would  write, 
and  abused  his  P.G.  reputation,  but  I  always  have  sus- 
pected him  to  have  something  of  a  woman's  nature, 
id  est  :  he  must  see  a  body  to  be  with  a  body.  Now, 
you  can't  say  that  of  me  !  What  do  you  think  (as  the 
proof  the  other  way)  ?  I  was  walking  out  with  Hard- 
man  (the  man  being  absent  from  his  wife),  and  I  com- 
menced '  la — la la — la '  and  so  on,  cndhig  '  la — 


62  LETTERS  OF  GEORGE  MEREDITH 

la — ^la — ti — to — te  !  '  in  my  fine  voice,  when  he  cried 
'  Halloa  !  '  and  I  meekly  responded  '  That 's  my  spooney 
song.'  '  And  it 's  mine  !  '  qiioth  he.  '  The  song  that 
always  made  me  sentimental/  said  I.  '  The  song  that 
bowled  me  over/  said  he.  I  told  him  with  a  yawn  (noble 
manhood's  mask  for  a  sigh),  that  I  had  written  words 
to  it.  He  and  his  wife  petition  for  them.  So,  please,  to 
spare  me  from  having  to  write  fresh  ones,  send  me,  if  you 
have  them,  a  copy  of  my  lines  to  Schubert's  Adieu.  If 
you  have  any  objection  don't  do  it. 

Maxse  is  not  the  man  you  saw  with  me  in  Esher.  That 
was  Fitzgerald.  Maxso  is  quite  a  different  fellow.  He 
performed  the  celebrated  ride  m  the  Crimea,  as  Lord 
Lyons'  aide-de-camp  !  .  .  .  By  the  way,  I  write  for  the 
*  Morning  Post '  now  at  odd  hours,  which  pays  your  poet. 
And  I  've  a  volume  of  poems  coming  out  in  three  weeks  : 
but  I  won't  send  the  volume.  You  shall  have  it  when 
you  come.  Jessopp,  the  man  I  spoke  of  as  lilving  my 
works,  has  been  here — did  I  tell  you  ?  He  begged  to  be 
allowed  to  educate  Arthur  at  his  own  expense,  and  under 
his  OAvn  supervision.  The  kindness  was  great,  but  I 
could  not  let  him  be  at  the  charge  while  I  have  power  to 
work,  you  know.  I  like  him  very  much  and  so  would 
you.  Can  you  meet  him  in  Paris  ?  Nothing  would  please 
me  better.  But  I  fear  I  can't  leave  my  pen.  Borthwick 
promises  me  introductions  there.  It  would  be  pleasant, 
I  will  see.  .  .  . — Your  faithful  George  M. 


To  William  Hardman. 

CopsiLm,  March  17,  1862. 

My  dear  Hardman, — You  are  well  out  of  this  weather. 
Myself  am  in  appearance  much  like  the  atmosphere  ; 
in  sentiment  I  am  due  East.  King  Aeolus  holds  his 
court  within  me.     I  feel  as  one  who  has  run  a  gallant 


LETTERS  OF  GEORGE  MEREDITH  63 

race  h  way  to  perdition,  and  thinks  of  returning  as  far 
as  he  can  before  the  final  Trump  shall  sound  to  him. 

Last  night  came  off  the  RafHe.  I  record  it.  Sons  got 
the  number  35.  YourseK  and  Demitroia  respectively 
36  and  37.  WaKord  18.  Morison  and  spouse  about  30 
I  think.  I  had  two  throws,  first  29  and  second  41.  The 
Granges  39  ;  the  Claremont  people  38.  Lo  !  G.  M.  is 
the  winner  of  what  he  does  not  want  at  all.  So  it 
happens  !  If  Demitroia  won't  have  the  thing,  it  shall 
go  to  JMiss  Grange.   .   .  . 

I  hope  to  hear  good  news  of  Demitroia.  If  not,  j'ou 
can  no  longer  as  a  man  decline  to  open  a  vein  and  supply 
her  from  your  abundance.  I  confess  I  am  astonished 
that  you  have  not  volunteered  to  do  so. — Your  faithful 

George  Meredith. 

To  the  Rev.  Augustus  Jessopp. 

EsHEE,  3Iarch  24,  1862. 

My  dear  Mr.  Jessopp, — ^JMy  boy  thanks  you  heartily 
for  the  book  of  verse.  He  delays  to  write  himself,  he 
says,  until  he  has  read  it  through,  and  can  speak  sagely 
on  the  subject.  Of  this  you  will  approve. — He,  let  me 
tell  you,  is  not  a  '  George,'  but  is  '  Arthur  Gryffydd.' — 
I  must  say  I  think  the  selection  very  Patmorian,  but  it  'a 
a  pleasant  book  for  a  boy,  and  this  httle  man  reads  it 
with  pleasure.  The  sentimental  pieces,  of  course,  affect 
him  the  least ;  for  he  is  a  natural  fellow,  and  I  never 
trouble  the  roots  of  him.  Dibdin  is  almost  his  favourite  : 
he  recites  the  fines  on  Sir  Sidney  Smith  gleefuUy. 

Apropos  of  Praxaspes,  shame  on  me  !  I  had  to  hunt 
him  up.  My  old  impression  of  him,  and  my  new,  differ. 
Duty  is  a  fine  heroic  business  ;  but  a  man  should  be  a 
slave  to  nothmg.  P.  was  a  slave  to  his  conception  of  this 
virtue.  What !  he  serves  the  man  who  slaughters  his 
son  :    he  takes  pride  in  bemg  faithful  to  the  dynasty  of 


64  LETTERS  OF  GEORGE  T.IEREDITH 

a  madman  ! — I  give  my  sjinpatliies  to  the  persecuted 
Magi. 

Praxaspes  might  be  cast  in  the  form  of  a  monologue. 
But,  you  see  I  am  on  the  other  side. 

Does  Mrs.  Jessopp  really  mean  to  visit  me  ?  Does  she 
know  the  sort  of  place  she  will  be  coming  to  ?  She  will 
do  me  great  honour  and  make  me  very  happy,  but  I 
desire  that  she  be  distinctly  aware  of  what  she  must 
undergo  in  a  hut — for  this  roof  that  covers  me  is  nothing 
more.  Does  she  not  travel  in  Smtzerland  ? — She  can 
then  rough  hardship. — Let  me  know  when  I  may  expect 
you,  if  you  hold  by  this  good  resolve. 

My  book  hangs  a  httle.  I  am  sick  of  the  sight  of  it. 
A  council  of  friends  say  that  the  Rosanna  poem  must  be 
published,  as  embodying  something  of  me  ! — Of  the  old 
volume  nothing  will  appear. 

To  William  Hardman. 

March  24,  1862. 

Dear  Friend, — I  feel  for  you  in  your  profound 
affliction.  Has  she  returned  ?  Pardon  my  asking. 
You  break  out  beautifully  into  dishes  and  show  a  lovely 
and  most  becoming  bravado.  .  .  .  '  And  every  dog  shall 
have  his  day,'  Old  Song. 

Morison  ^  did  not  come.  He  was  right.  But,  oh,  what 
a  day  this  day  !  How  I  wish  you  were  here  to  wander 
about.  The  smell  of  the  earth  is  Elysian.  I  am  really 
not  tauntin'  you.  On  Wednesday  I  will  come  to  your 
desolate  household  if  the  South  wind  does  not  blow — 
with  what  different  feelings. — Your  ever  faithful 

George  Meredith. 

Bill  for  fly  to  Oatlands  5/  just  come  in.  I  promised 
to  tell  you,  and  I  am  a  man  of  my  word. 

*  James  Cotter  Morison,  familiarly  termed  'St.  Bernard,'  author  of  a 
Life  of  St.  Bernard,  and  later  of  The  Service  of  Man,  etc. 


LETTERS  OF  GEORGE  MEREDITH  65 

To  William  Hardman. 

March  25,  1862. 

My  dear  Hard]vian, — Please  do  not  expect  me  posi- 
tively to-morrow.  I  may  call  on  Thursday  :  but  what 
I  want  to  do  is  to  go  with  you  and  Demitroia  to  the 
Monday  Popular  Concerts  to  hear  Joachim,  and  music, 
since  your  infernal  alterations  stop  all  that  at  home.  .  .  . 
And  yet,  supposing  I  am  weak  and  come  to-morrow  ! 
You  may  turn  me  back  from  the  door  without  giving 
ofience,  for  I  shall  know  I  have  deserved  it ;  and  I  shall 
have  tho  imperial  luxury  of  one  who,  from  the  couch  of 
indolence,  surveys  the  Realms  of  Bhss. 

By  the  way,  a  letter  from  Alexandria.  My  Janet 
refuses  to  give  the  verses,  unless  I  stringently  insist ; 
*  for,'  says  she,  '  they  were  composed  for  me  and  me  alone, 
and  I  don't  want  to  lose  the  sense  of  their  being  pecuhar 
to  myself  '  .  .  .  Can  I  msist  ? — I  must  e'en  write  Demi- 
taunton  a  new  set  of  verse. 

PS. — I  really  think  I  shall  come.  But  don't  expect 
me. 

To  William  Hardmnn. 

April  22,  1862. 

My  dear  Hardman, — Thanks  for  your  services.  .  .  . 
I  let  the  thing  pass.  Let  the  pubHc  drive  me  to  a  2nd 
edition,  if  they  want  further  alterations. 

Friendhest  Tuck  !  I  dine  with  you  at  the  hour  you 
please  to  name  on  Thursday.  You  will  decide  about 
Chapman.  It 's  a  matter  of  policy  simply.  Let  me 
know.  If  we  dissipate  subsequently  we  should  dine  at 
5.30,— if  not  at  6. 

I  say  !  Poor  dear  old  Morison  !  I  suppose  you  have 
heard  of  his  purl  ?  Horse  went  down  with  him  on  high 
road  and  precipitated  the  horse  and  St.  Bernard  in  the 

VOL.  I. — E 


66  LETTERS  OF  GEORGE  MEREDITH 

dust,  which  was  nearly  stopping  flow  of  same.  All 's 
well  that  ends  well !  But  one  feels  one  likes  him  warmly 
when  there  is  a  note  of  danger.  He  has  been  shaken 
considerably — had  a  slight  fever,  and  is  without  his 
strength,  though  he  managed  to  walk  to  me  yesterday. 
I  walked  back  with  him.  He  had  to  take  fly  at  Walton 
station. 


To  Captain  Maxse. 

COPSHAM,  ESHER. 

Is  it  the  same  sky  over  us  ?  Mine  is  of  the  grimmest 
grey,  with  a  fog-lining.  The  daffodil  in  the  meadow 
has  been  nodding  to  this  genial  wind  for  the  last  two 
weeks  :  and  now  we  have  the  pen-bird  heralding  the 
cuckoo,  and  I  suppose  summer  is  coming  :  but  we  are 
aU  in  suspense  to  know  whether  we  are  to  get  a  daily 
ducking  or  Uve  the  hfe  of  non-purgatorial  beings  through 
the  months.  Last  Sunday  there  was  a  puff  of  sunshine. 
I  walked  with  a  couple  of  fellows  to  Box  HiU.  What 
changes  since  last  year  !  I  looked  over  the  hilly  Dorking 
road  we  traversed.  It  wound  away  for  other  footsteps. 
Well ! — ^you  at  least  have  nothing  to  regret.  I  hope  the 
sunshine  will  cling  to  you. 

The  Naples  correspondent  of  the  '  Times '  gives  a 
horrible  account  of  the  state  of  the  country,  and  rather 
alarms  one  about  you  :  but  having  so  precious  a  charge 
to  protect  you  won't  be  rash,  I  'm  sure. — Of  course,  you 
have  heard  all  about  the  Monitor  and  Merrimac.  A 
pretty  business  sea-fighting  comes  to  !  Was  there  ever 
so  devihsh  an  entertainment !  Blood  bursting  from 
the  eyes  and  ears  of  the  men  at  the  guns,  who  seemed  to 
be  under  the  obligation  of  knocking  their  own  senses 
to  atoms  as  a  prehminary  to  sending  the  souls  of  their 
foes  to  perdition.     If  they  want  me  to  go  on  board  such 


LETTERS  OF  GEORGE  MEREDITH  67 

vessels,  I  plead  with  Charles  Lamb,  '  Lance,  and  a 
coward/ — The  whole  business  affects  the  imagination 
awfully  :  but  in  reality  an  old  sea-fight  was  a  far  bloodier 
business.  Science,  I  presume,  will  at  last  put  it  to  our 
option  whether  we  will  improve  one  another  from  off 
the  face  of  the  globe,  and  we  must  decide  by  our  common 
sense. 

Read  John  Mill  on  '  Liberty  '  the  other  day  ;  and  re- 
commend it  to  you.  It 's  a  splendid  protest  against  the 
tyranny  society  is  beginning  to  exercise  ;  very  noble 
and  brave. 

The  book  will  be  out  the  Monday  after  Easter.  I  sent 
with  Borthwick  as  many  of  the  proofs  as  I  could  collect ; 
thinking  you  would  have  no  time  to  review  in  Rome. 
But,  if  you  have  not  done  it,  let  me  beg  you  to  be  in  no 
hurr}'-.  The  book  can  wait.  You  will  find  one  or  two 
poems  that  you  have  not  seen.  The  '  Ode  to  the  Spirit 
of  Earth  in  Autumn.'  may  please  you. 

I  heard  from  Borthwick  of  the  Violet's  charming  ad- 
venture with  the  Emperor,  and  can  picture  it. 

What  you  say  about  Christianity  arresting  sensualism, 
is  very  well  :  but  the  Essenian  parentage  of  Christianity 
was  simply  asceticism.  Hitherto  human  nature  has 
marched  through  the  conflict  of  extremes.  With  the 
general  growth  of  reason,  it  will  be  possible  to  choose  a 
path  mid-way.  Paganism  no  doubt  deserved  the  ascetic 
reproof  ;  but  Christianity  failed  to  supply  much  that 
it  destroyed.  Pompeii,  as  being,  artistically,  a  Grecian 
Colony  merely,  cannot  represent  the  higher  development 
of  Paganism. 

Alas  !  I  fear  I  shall  not  join  you  in  Venice. — By  the 
way,  take  care  to  get  an  introduction  to  Rawdon  Brown, 
while  there.  He  has  Uved  and  worked  at  the  Archives 
in  Venice  for  20  years,  and  can  tell  you  more  of  the  place 
than  any  other  man.     I  hear  he  is  also  a  good  fellow. 


68  LETTERS  OF  GEORGE  MEREDITH 

Pray,  give  my  kindest  regards  to  your  Cecilia.  I  am 
flattered  to  hear  that  Enghshmen  stand  so  high  with  her 
now  that  she  can  make  comparisons. — Write  soon  ;  and 
know  me  ever,  your  faithful  George  M. 

In  Venice  read  *  Julian  and  Maddalo.'  It  is  one  of 
Shelley's  best :  admirable  for  simphcity  of  style,  ease, 
beauty  of  description  and  local  truth.  The  philosophy, 
of  course,  you  may  pass. 


To  William  Hardman. 

Map  2,  1862. 
Such  Weather. 
And  at  Copsham  no  Tuck  ! 

Anathema  ! 
Spoken  by  the  poet  on  receiving 

Tuck's 
Card  :  May  2nd,  1862. 

'  May  his  company  find  him  utterly  dull,  and  he  his 
company  ! 

*  May  he  hear  good  things  and  not  comprehend  them  ! 

*  May  he  long  in  anguish  to  laugh,  and  when  the  laugh 
comes,  may  he  forget  the  cause  thereof,  and  go  seeking 
for  it,  for  the  remainder  of  his  years,  with  the  aspect  of 
such  a  seeker  ! 

*  May  DemitroTa  exclaim,  "  I  am  of  a  different  opinion 
from  WiUiam  "  ! ! !  ' 

(CHmax  attained.) 
(Close  of  Anathema.) 

Went  to  Exhibition  on  opening  Day  with  Borthwick. 
Crush.  Saw  everything.  .  .  .  Dined  with  Morison  and 
Hicks,  and  drank  Hocks,  etc.  Anticipated  seeing  you, 
cock-certain,  to-morrow.     Will  never  believe  your  cock- 


LETTERS  OF  GEORGE  MEREDITH  69 

certain  again  ! — Book  to  be  delivered  this  evening  or 
to-morrow.  Has  subscribed  v/onderfully  well.  In  spite 
of  all. — ^Your  loving  George  M. 


To  William  Hardman. 

COPSHAM,  May  5,  1862. 

Madrigal 

*  Since  Tuck  is  Faithless  Found  ' 

Since  Tuck  is  faithless  found,  no  more 
I  '11  trust  to  man  or  maid  ; 
I  '11  sit  me  down,  a  hermit  hoar. 
Alone  in  Copsham  shade. 

The  sight  of  all  I  shun ; 
Far-spying  from  the  mound ; 
I  '11  be  at  home  no  more. 

Since  Tuck, 

Since  Tu-a  tu-a  tu-a 

Tuia  Tuck, 
Since  Tuck  is  faithless  found. 

Oh  !  what  a  glorious  daj.  I  have  done  lots  of  Emilia, 
and  am  now  o2  to  Ripley,  or  St.  Demitroia  hill,  or  Tuck's 
Height,  carolling.  I  snap  mj  fuigers  at  you.  And  yet, 
dear  Tuck,  what  would  I  give  to  have  you  here.  The 
gorse  is  all  ablaze,  the  meadows  are  glorious — green, 
humming  all  day.  Nightingales  throng.  Heaven,  blessed 
blue  amorous  Heaven,  is  hard  at  work  upon  our  fair, 
wanton,  darlhig  old  naughty  Mother  Earth. 

Come,  dear  Tuck,  and  quickly,  or  I  must  love  a  woman, 
and  be  ruined.     Answer  me,  grievous  man  ! 

In  thine  ear  ! — Asparagus  is  ripe  at  Ripley.  In  haste. 
— Your  constantly  lovmg  friend,  George  M. 


70  LETTERS  OF  GEORGE  IVIEREDITH 

To  William  Hardinan. 

CopsHAM  Hermitage,  May  6,  1862. 
I  dare  say  !  You  know  how  badly  you  have  behaved, 
and  now  you  praise  the  poet  and  cajole  the  man  !  Is  it 
Tuck  that  sends  me  a  letter  of  this  kind  ? — Not  a  word 
of  repentance  for  a  promise  foully  broken.  No  appoint- 
ment for — or  let  me  say,  expression  of  humble  desire, 
to  receive  pardon  of,  Copsham  in  the  flesh  next  Saturday. 
I  won't  come  to  you  on  Tuesday.  I  will  emit  fresh 
Anathemas  !  Read  next  page,  or  no ;  rhyme  is  more 
kindly. 

Tune  :  '  Johnny 's  too  late  for  the  Fair,' 

Tuck  !     Tuck  !     Once  you  would  flatter  me, 
Saying  that  I  in  due  season  should  fatter  be. 
Here  is  Asparagus — what  can  the  matter  be  ? 
Why  don't  you  join  in  the  Fair  ? 

Ripley  's  the  place  with  the  jolly  old  Talbot  Inn, 
Once  we  tAVo  passed  there,  you  know,  and  were  all  but 

in. 
Rhyme  now  commands  me  to  throw  here  a  small  '  but ' 

in. 
Why  don't  you  join  in  the  Fair  ? 

I  saw  the  Japanese  at  the  Exhibition  on  Thursday  last. 
This  Thursday  I  dine  with  the  '  Once  a  Week  '  people, 
and  shall  ask  Hamilton  for  a  bed.^  I  won't  come  to  you 
unless  I  can  be  more  with  j-ou.  Now,  please  come  down 
for  some  days  in  this  magnificent  weather.  The  nightin- 
gales are  at  their  best.  I  went  to  see  St.  Demitroia's 
Hill  yesterday,  and  saw  the  great  Irrational — the  Crystal, 
Walford's   Domicile,   Harrow,   Windsor,    Berks,    Bucks, 

*  N.  E.  S.  A.  Hamilton  of  the  MSS.  Dopartmont,  Britiah  Museum, 
1852-1872,  author  of  The  Shakespearean  Question,  18G0. 


LETTERS  OF  GEORGE  MEREDITH  71 

Hants,  Hogs  Back.  Mon  Dieu  !  And  no  Tuck  near  ! 
To  Demitroia  all  kindness. — Still  (through  weakness  of 
resolve)  your  loving  George  M. 

To  William  Hardman. 

CopSHAM,  May  18,  1862. 

QuESTIOlSrS   AND   ANSWERS 

Q.  What 's  a  continual  feast  ? 

A.  A  day  given  up  to  Tuck. 

Q.  Why  am  I  of  a  most  vigorous  capacity  of  digestion  ? 

A.  Because  I  never  can  have  too  much  of  Tuck. 

Q.  Is  it  true  that  an  Alderman  before  he  finishes  his 
day  must  necessarily  take  a  bracing  walk  ? 

A.  Necessarily  so  ;   for  he  makes  the  circuit  of  Tuck  ! 

Confound  the  Press  for  its  impudence  in  calling  me 
the  pupil  of  anybody  !  Never  mind  :  ii  we  do  but  get 
the  public  ear.  Oh,  my  dear  old  boy ! — I  rejoice  to  think 
that  I  may  soon  have  you,  but  grieve  for  Demitroia. 
Come  on  Tuesday,  if  you  can  ;  'cause  Wednesday  is  the 
day  before  Black  Thursday  when  George  Pegasus,  Esq. 
goes  mto  harness  and  understands  what  donkeys  feel  when 
they  are  driven.  Also,  arrange,  if  it  seemeth  fit  to  you, 
for  a  walk  with  Hinchhffe,  or  alone  for  Saturday  next : 
or  arrange  to  come  to  me.     As  you  wiU. 

Gathering  up  my  soul  in  its  might,  I  say  (and  damn 
aU  consequences)  my  love  to  Demitroia  !     There  ! 

George  M. 

To  Captain  Maxse. 

CopSHAM,  EsHEE,  June  9,  1862. 

My  dear  Maxse, — I  look  about  vainly  for  a  long 
letter  already  written  to  you ;  but  it 's  as  good  as 
nowhere.  I  must  trust  you  to  know  yourself  constantly 
in  my  thoughts.     But  I  feel  that  you  are  quite  at  peace 


72  LETTERS  OF  GEORGE  MEREDITH 

and  as  a  river  embayed,  a  deep  quiet  mirror  to  illimitable 
skies.  Shall  I  stir  my  mind  about  the  Elect  ?  Let  them 
walk  in  their  Paradise  !  So,  though  I  think  of  you, 
it  is  as  one  under  seal ;  fixed,  stamped,  monotonously 
certain  of  his  fate.  This  destroys  all  sequence  of  ideas 
in  me.  I  revert  inevitably  to  the  original  proposition — 
'  He  has  aimed  and  hit  the  mark.'  All  around  him  now 
is  empty  babble.  However,  I  will  talk,  for  you  may 
be  beginning  to  sigh  for  a  breath  of  England.  Ah  me  ! 
how  I  would  wish  to  be  with  you,  if  wishing  availed. 
But  I  must  work  on,  and  it  is  just  now  imperative,  or 
nothing  would  keep  me  from  Venice  and  you  at  this 
season,  or  from  Italy  and  you.  I  know  we  should  feel 
together  on  so  much  there  ;  and  then  smishine  means 
ten  times  more  with  sweet  companionship. — I  am  work- 
ing at  Emilia  Belloni.  Health  is  so-so — it  has  been  pretty 
good.  What  works  I  could  throw  off  if  I  had  the  digestion 
of  any  of  the  creatures  that  hope  to  be  saved  !  I  am 
fretted  with  so  much  in  my  head  that  my  hands  can't 
accomphsh.  The  other  day  I  walked  with  a  good  fellow 
whom  you  should  know  (his  wife  would  make  a  charming 
companion  for  St.  Cecilia)  to  JVIickleham,  after  dinner. 
There  we  slept.  Next  morning  early  we  took  our  old 
route — over  Dorking  to  Wotton  :  round  Evel^nn's  grounds 
on  to  Shere,  then  on  the  downs  to  St.  Martha's  :  thence 
to  Guildford,  Godalming,  IVIilford,  to  the  little  Inn  where 
you  heard  the  nightingales  and  were  ravished  by  them. 
After  that  my  friend  hmped,  so  we  had  to  return  the 
day  folio  whig,  by  train. 

I  hope,  b}^  the  way,  your  review  won't  be  written  before 
you  see  the  book.  One  poem,  new  to  you  (Ode  to  the 
Spirit  of  Earth  in  Autumn),  wiU  please  j^ou  better  than 
all — please  you  specially.  It  will  suffice  for  me  if  you 
tell  me  what  you  think  of  it,  and  not  the  public.  The 
notices  that  have  appeared  fix  favourably  on  the  Road- 


LETTERS  OF  GEORGE  MEREDITH  73 

side  poems,  but  discard  '  Modem  Love/  which,  I  admit, 
requires  thought,  and  discernment,  and  reading  more 
than  once.  The  Saturday  R.  has  not  yet  spoken.  One 
paper  calls  me  a  genius — one,  a  meretricious,  clever, 
bold  man.  I  find,  to  my  annoyance,  that  I  am  suscept- 
tible  to  remarks  on  my  poems,  and  criticisms  from 
whipsters  or  women  absolutely  make  me  wince  and  flush. 
I  saw  Robert  Browning  the  other  day,  and  he  expressed 
himself  '  astounded  at  the  originahty,  delighted  with  the 
naturalness  and  beauty.' — Pardon  my  egotism — I  write 
to  please  j'ou  ! 

I  have  not  yet  seen  Gibson's  Venus.  I  went  to  the 
Lit.  Ex.  on  the  opening  day — have  delayed  to  go  since. 
It  was  a  poor  unimpressive  show.  Fancy  the  Poet 
Laureate  in  the  line  of  march  ! 

June  13. — Your  letter  from  Lucca  : — You  complain  of 
sun.  The  S.W.  has  been  blowmg  since  the  middle  of  May, 
and  this  year  has  not  yet  known  one  day  of  sunshine. — 
Rossetti  is  beginning  to  ask  about  your  Lady,  to  know 
when  he  may  have  a  sitting.  He,  dear  fellow,  is  better — 
still  somewhat  shaken.  Mention  it  not — ^he  buried  his 
MSS.  poems  in  his  wife's  coffin,  it  is  whispered.  He,  his 
brother,  and  Swinburne,  have  taken  a  house  (Sir  T. 
More's)  at  Chelsea  :  a  strange,  quaint,  grand  old  place, 
with  an  immense  garden,  magnificent  panelled  staircases 
and  rooms, — a  palace.  I  am  to  have  a  bedroom  for  my 
once-a-week  visits.  We  shall  have  nice  evenings  there, 
and  I  hope  you  '11  come.  .  .  . — The  Notices  of  my  book 
are  scarce  worth  sending.  The  '  Spectator '  abuses  me. 
The  '  Athena3um '  mildly  pats  me  on  the  back  :  the 
'  Parthenon  '  blows  a  trumpet  about  me  :  the  *  Sat.  R.' 
makes  no  sign. — VvTiatever  number  of  books  you  may  like 
to  have,  pray  accept  as  your  own.  Is  not  mine  yours, 
in  all  things  ?  I  would  prefer  that  you  should  not  buy 
books  of  mine.     That  is  for  the  good  pubhc  to  do. 


74  LETTERS  OF  GEORGE  MEREDITH 

I  wish  particularly  to  be  kept  au  courant  of  your 
change  of  abode  :  there  's  no  knowing  what  I  might  do, 
on  the  spur.  Whither  in  Switzerland  do  you  go,  first  ? 
I  presume,  across  the  Itahan  Lakes,  and  over  the  Spliigen 
to  Lucerne.  Be  careful  of  the  waters  of  that  lake  : 
at  some  points  it  is  dangerous  at  any  moment. — Tell  me, 
don't  you  find  that  great  heat  somewhat  narrows  and 
sharpens  the  reflective  power  ?  The  effect,  in  Southern 
climates,  on  Art,  is  to  sacrifice  all  to  outUne,  as  a  rule, 
and  murder  detail.  Even  during  the  short  time  I  was 
in  Italy  I  experienced  this  in  a  small  degree.  If  the 
passions  did  but  slumber,  Italy  would  be  the  very  spot 
of  earth  for  great  work  to  be  done.  Here  ! — I  should 
like  to  try  it. — I  have  a  comedy  germinatmg  in  the 
brain,  of  the  Classic  order  :  '  The  Sentimentalists.'  I 
fancy  it  will  turn  out  well.  *  Emilia  Belloni '  goes 
slowly  forward,  for  the  reason  that  I  have  re-written 
it :  so,  all  will  be  new  to  you.  I  shall  send  you  the 
Cornhill  Mag.  next  month.  Adam  Bede  has  a  new  work 
in  it.  I  understand  they  have  given  her  an  enormous 
sum  (£8000,  or  more  !  she  retaining  ultimate  copyright) 
— Bon  Dieu  !  will  aught  like  this  ever  happen  to  me  ? — 
Shall  you  stay  long  at  Turin  ? — Of  all  the  horrible  cities  ! 
Two  or  three  days  at  Milan  will  give  you  quite  enough  of 
the  pet  Itahan  city  :  go  to  the  Brera  :  and  see  Leonardo's 
wrecked  Last  Supper.  On  Como  stop  at  BeUagio — ^not 
at  the  Villa  d'Este  :  the  hotel  is  good  at  the  latter  place, 
but  the  scenery  is  not  so  fine.  .  .  . — ^Your  constant  loving 

George  Meredith. 

To  William  Hardman. 

June  18,  1862. 

Well-beloved  Tuck  ! — (Though  I  know  I  am  cut.) 
9th  progressive  station  of  Ginger  Beer  to  eventful  Pop, 
passed    pleasantly.     Your    kind    recognition  of    it    was 


LETTERS  OF  GEORGE  MEREDITH  75 

received  by  me  with  loud  exclamation  of  delight.  Come 
on  Saturday,  I  prithee.  But  excuse  my  attendance  on 
Friday.  I  am  obhged  to  be  here,  and  indeed,  notwith- 
standing your  taunts,  Copsham  is  worth  a  visit  just  now. 
The  roses  and  the  Romford  ale  are  in  their  finest  condition. 
— In  haste,  j^our  faithful 

Robin  Selkirk 
Island  of  Juan  Fernandez,  Copsham. 

My  homage  to  Demitroia  as  ever. 

Menu  approved  ;  but  to  send  it  now,  when  the  feast 
is  over  !  Am  I  embracing  a  phantom  !  Does  my  mouth 
water  for  a  corpse  !  Does  not  the  favourite  poet  of  WE 
say  '  Look  not  mournfully  into  the  past '  ?    You  make  me. 

To  Captain  Maxse.    " 

Copsham,  Esher,  June.  23,  1862. 

My  dear  Maxse, — I  write  in  haste,  a  short  note,  on 
the  chance  of  speaking  to  you  before  you  leave  Turui. 
Your  article  has  appeared  in  the  '  Post.'  It  is  very 
good  :  but  do  you  think  it  ?  You  should  have  whipped 
me  on  the  score  of  the  absurdities,  obscurities,  and  what 
not.  I  feel  that  you  have  been  sparing  me,  and  though 
I  don't  love  the  rod,  I  don't  cry  mercy.  I  'm  exceedingly 
sorry  that  you  did  not  review  from  the  book.  The  Ode 
to  the  Spirit  of  Earth  will,  if  I  mistake  not,  catch  hold 
of  you.  I  will  see  that  notices  of  the  Poems  are  for- 
warded to  you.  But  let  me  know  your  route  and  resting- 
places. — Tell  me  when  you  write,  whether  your  scenic 
faculty  has  been  excited,  and  by  what, — I  am  at  work 
on  Emiha  Belloni,  and  bringing  her  more  to  j'our  taste. 
I  have  remodelled  the  whole — making  the  background 
more  agreeable  and  richer  comedy.  I  have  an  immense 
quantity  of  work  in  store.  Prose,  poetry  :  a  comedy 
(The  Scntimentahsts),  etc.     Health  is  still  weak  and  will 


76  LETTERS  OF  GEORGE  MEREDITH 

never  be  much,  I  fear,  unless  I  can  purchase  two  years' 

perfect  rest  and  travel. — B.  W came  the  other  day  : 

'  acknoUodged  '  his  foregone  errors,  and  hoped  for  forgive- 
ness :  '  Me  deer  Mardith,'  etc.  ! — ^He  hopes  to  get  some 
property  now.  I  fear  he  is  in  a  prospective  mess.  His 
present  one  is  without  dispute.  I  helped  him  to  the  best 
of  mj''  abihty,  and  he  departed,  praising  me,  magnifying 
me, — Fred  Chapman,  j^ou  know,  is  married.  He  goes  to 
Florence  in  September.  Tom  Trollope  (who  hves  there) 
tells  me  that  September  is  a  dehcious  month  for  Florence, 
the  best  in  the  year. — What  are  your  plans  about  the 
winter  ?  Don't  fail  to  let  me  know,  because,  if  you  are 
in  Italy  in  early  Spring  next, — ^say,  Feb. -March  to  Juno, 
I  will  come  over,  as  I  desire  to  breathe  that  air  with  you. 
— I  have  not  yet  been  to  the  International  a  second  time. 

Are  you  writing  anything  beyond  impressions  or 
voyages  ? — Wliat  you  told  me  once  on  that  head  (that 
I  have  influenced  you  against  your  own  compositions, 
acting  so  as  to  check  you)  weighs  upon  me  sadly,  now 
and  then.  I  know  you  will  be  happier  if  3-0U  write,  and 
I  am  convinced  you  wOl,  if  you  choose,  write  a  good  book. 
Pray,  don't  put  aside  that  old  and  excellent  ambition  of 
yours.     You  will  miss  a  friend. 

I  begin  to  yearn  to  see  you — just  as  I  did  when  in 
Tyrol.     You  will  get  a  sentimental  poem  this  time. 

You  hear  all  about  the  Yankees  and  politics,  of  course. 

Read  '  Les  Miserables,'  if  j^ou  can  get  it.  Six  vols,  are 
out.  It  is  conceived  in  pure  blaclv  and  white.  It  is, 
nevertheless,  the  master  work  of  fiction  of  this  century — 
as  yet.     There  are  things  in  it  quite  wonderful. 

I  bow  my  head  to  your  dear  Lad}^  praying  that  her 
health  may  be  improved,  and  am,  your  loving 

George  Meredith. 

My  dear  boy  is  quite  well,  flourishes  wonderfully. 


LETTERS  OF  GEORGE  MEREDITH  77 

To  William  Hardman. 

July  12,  1862. 

My  dear  First  Person  Plural, — I  wish  I  could  come 
to  you.  The  rolling  seasons  seem  to  have  gone  round 
thrice  since  I  (I  forgot  whom  I  was  addressing),  shook 
your  hands. 

I  remember  one  Tuck,  a  jovial  soul,  a  man  after  my 
own  heart,  whom  I  loved.  I  asked  Nature  for  him  ; 
she  draws  a  South-west  veil  across  my  eyes,  weeping. 
Francatelli  nods  a  cold  and  tasteless  response  !  Tuck  ! 
No  answer !  I  explore  the  woods  of  Copsham  dale, 
fruitlessly. 

On  Friday  is  the  illustrious  small  man's  birthday,  and 
he  must  not  be  left.  Edward  Peacock  and  his  boy  are 
staying  with  me  till  Saturday.  Rossetti  and  Swmbume 
come  on  Saturday.     Will  you  come  the  week  following  ? 

Aha  ! — As  if  I  cannot  see  that  I  am  cut,  and  that  the 
gulf  of  a  tail-coat  is  for  ever  more  twixt  me  and  Tuck. — 
BeHeve  me  still  and  ever,  my  dear  F.  P.  Plural,  your 
loving  George  ^I. 

To  William  Hardynan. 

Ryde  Pier  Hotel,  August  16,  1862. 

Free  Lover  Tuck  ! — To-morrow  we  shall  sail !  We 
are  off  to  the  West,  Love  ! 

And  now  for  a  Toast ! 

(To  Tuck  the  Toast  shall  be) 

I  am  off  along  the  Coast, 

And  would  he  were  with  me. 

(Popular  London  Air,  commonly  chanted 
by  Tuck  and  Robin. ) 

Here  's  Morison,  drunk  with  salt  water,  Mrs.  M.  ditto. 
G.  M.  ditto,  ditto.     We  swear  we  '11  live  in  it  till  we  come 


78  LETTERS  OF  GEORGE  MEREDTTH 

home  pickled.     I   have  got  a   Pea-jacket   and  such   a 
nautical  hat,  and  such  a  roll  of  the  legs  already. 

Now,  Tuck, — Will  you  do  this  for  me  ? — Will  you  write 
for  this  week's  *  Ipswich  Journal '  a  summary  of  the  week's 
news  :  and  an  article — on  America,  if  you  like.  Follow 
the  Press.  Will  you  call  and  see  Foakes  ?  ^  And  if  you 
don't  see  him,  will  you,  nevertheless,  send  your  work  on 
Thursday,  or  take  it,  to  Mr.  Gough,  at  1  New  Square, 
Lincohi's  Inn,  where  you  sometimes  caU  and  see  your 
Robin  on  Thursdays  ;  and  if  you,  perchance,  don't  see 
Gough,  wiU  you  post  the  aforesaid  to  H.  Knights,  Esq., 
*  Ipswich  Journal '  Office,  Ipswich.  I  shall  write  and  post 
one  article,  but  I  shan't  be  up  to  the  latest  news. 

For  I  '11  be  in  a  cabin, 
Just  3  feet  long,  6  square. 
Just  ponder  on  your  Robin, 
The  figure  of  him  there. 


'O' 


I  don't  care  a  damn, 
etc. 

You  will  immensely  obUge  me  by  doing  this,  and  I  shall 
then  be  able  to  run  over  to  the  Channel  Islands.  If  not, 
I  must  up  to  London  from  Weymouth.  Please  write 
then  immediately  (Post  Office,  Weymouth,  if  you  write 
on  Monday,  ditto  Torquay  if  on  Tuesday)  that  I  may 
hear  from  you  on  Tuesday  morning.  Adieu.  My 
(Neptune  emboldens  me  !)  love  to  Demitroia. — ^Your 
friend,  penitent,  loving,  lastingly,    George  Meredith. 

By  the  way,  why  don't  you  come  down  to  Copsham 
for  a  day  or  two,  next  week  ?  If  you  can  write  for  me, 
I  shan't  be  back  till  Tuesday  or  Wednesday  week.  The 
cottage  and  all  in  it  are  yours.     There  can  you  invite 

*  Proprietor  of  tho  Ipsivich  Journal, 


f&/. 


■t- 


LETTERS  OF  GEORGE  MEREDITH  79 

R.  C.  to  dine  with  you  in  place  of  my  doing  so.  And  I 
wish  you  would  !  There  's  wine  in  the  cellar.  If  you 
think  weU  of  this,  drop  Miss  Grange  a  word  of  warning. 
I  am  surprisingly  aux  cieux  already. 

A  dreadful  hitch  in  S.  Belloni  has  been  distressing  me 
of  late.  This  day  tides  me  over  the  difficulty — to-morrow. 
I  am  moodily  leaning  over  the  bin  (2  n's,  I  think)  -acle, 
thinking  of  Tuck  !  Au  revoir.  Mind  !  The  Weymouth 
Post  Office  ;  Torquay  on  Wednesday. 


To  William  Hardman. 

August  1862. 

My  dear  Hardiman, — Here  is  a  precious  liberty  I  am 

going  to  take  !     S has  come,  so  I  must  stop  in  town, 

and  so  must  Sons.     Will  you  bed  us  (Sons  and  self)  till 

Monday  ?     I  fancy  S will  be  delighted  to  come  on 

Sunday.  He  looks  wild  and  rough,  but  who  wouldn't 
after  being  horded  with  397  men  and  3  women.  One  of 
the  latter  wears  a  fine  moustache.  It  struck  me  (I  saw 
the  whole  boilin'  of  'em)  that  one  of  the  397  left  it  on  her 
lips  by  accident,  or  that  the  397  contributed.     Might  I 

brmg  S ,  but  No.     Oh,  Tuck  !     ShaU  I  teU  it  ?— It 's 

a  fact  :  but  in  anguish  I  beg  you  to  conceal  it  even  from 

D — ia.     S came  smack  at  my  cheeks  when  we  met. 

It  was  done  before  them  aU.  Now  I  feel  what  Lucretia's 
emotions  were  :  or  those  of  the  little  girl,  with  the  sense 
of  colour  so  strong,  examined  b}^  Knox.     Your  loving 

George  M. 

To  William  Hardman. 

George  Inn, 
Great  Marlow,  Sept.  7,  1862. 

Dearest,  and  if  possible,  more  Precious  Tuck,  because 
absent !  And  yet  not  so,  but  more  desired.  And  thereby 
hangs  a  philosophy.     Johnson  hath  mc  in  an  iron  grip  : 


80  LETTERS  OF  GEORGE  MEREDITH 

saith  I  shan't  go  save  as  an  arrow  head  from  the  bow 
which  himself  twangeth.  I  say,  that  but  for  Black 
Foakes'  Day,  common  to  no  Calendar,  save  mine,  Alas  ! 
I  would, 

Willy  nilly, 
Be  off  with  you  a  jolly  dance, 
To  Falmouth,  Torquay  and  Penzance 
Or  Scilly. 

But  Johnson  ^  adds — '  Will  Hardman  come  down  to  me 
at  Hoddesdon,  on  Monday  week,  and  go  to  see  Hatfield 
(famous  old  garden  and  house)  and  Panshanger,  where 
are  pictures  of  price — if  so  let  him  say  so,  as  a  man, 
and  he  is  welcome.'  To  this  I  add,  from  him  and  from 
me.  Come  down  here  for  a  day  or  two.  We  are  comfort- 
able. The  country  is  dehcious.  The  wallvS  are  heavenly. 
The  river  is  a  dream  of  green  herbage  and  reflected 
heaven.  The  weather  promises.  May  we  expect  you 
on  Tuesday  or  Monday  night,  perchance — on  a  sudden  : 
a  great  feat !  You  are  free,  and  soon  going  to  be  melan- 
choly, if  without  excitement.  Do  come.  Johnson  is 
very  desirous  to  make  acquaintance  with  the  grasp  of 
your  hand.  I,  when  I  am  parted  from  it,  pine,  as  you 
know  ! — Write  !  But  should  the  true  Tuckian  inspiration 
seize  you,  outstrip  the  post,  as  you  alone  can. — In  all  love, 
your  faithful  Robin, 

To  William  Hardman. 

FOAKES  DEN,  AFTER  FOAKES  DAY, 

Sept.  19,  1862. 

My  DEAR  Tuck, — I  rejoice  to  hear  that  the  wandering 
atom  '  I '  is  the  happy  and  thrice-beloved  *  We  '  once 
more.     Here  's  my  news.     Thursday  last  a  letter  from 

1  Of  Johnson,  Matthoy  and  Co.,  bullion  brokers.  Nicknamed 
'  T'.ulHon.' 


LETTERS  OF  GEORGE  MEREDITH  81 

Copsham  to  say  that  Zillah  ^  has  Smallpox  !  Luckily  the 
little  man  was  at  Hoddesdon.  I  have  written  to  Jessopp, 
who  will  take  him  immediately.  Hard  as  it  is  to  let  him 
go,  he  goes  on  Friday  next.  Lo,  I  have  been  prompt  on 
this  occasion,  but  conceive  the  horrible  bore.  The  house 
won't  be  habitable  for  2  months  ;  and  friends  won't  come 
under  4.  I  have  notions  of  skidaddling.  I  go  this  day 
down  to  Tunbridge  Wells,  and  return  on  Wednesday 
following.  On  Friday  to  Norwich.  Then  to  Oxford 
with  Morison  on  Tuesday  for  a  short  period.  Then  to 
Sussex.  Then — ^perhaps  to  Tuck,  for  2  or  3  days,  if  he 
has  returned  to  the  Refectory.  Health  at  Mario w 
excellent :  at  Hoddesdon  poor.  Result  in  London — 
Megrims. 

I  heard  of  poor  Hinchhffe  from  Hamilton  last  night, 
who  spoke  croakily.  Please  convey  to  Hinchliffe  my 
word  of  sympathy  and  hope  to  see  him  recovered  soon. 
Also  congratulations  of  the  heartiest  kind  to  that  humble 
aspirant  for  women's  honours,  the  fair  young  Betsy  ! 
Amphitrite,  we  might  have  been  sure,  would  do  the 
business  for  her.     Now  for  Cupidon.  .  .  . 

Went  to  Hatfield  and  Panshanger.  Hertfordshire  is 
a  pretty  county.  I  would  rather  not  dwell  in  it.  Yet 
with  Tuck — and  when  I  say  with  my  We  Tuck  I  do  not 
mean  to  diminish  him  and  make  him  small — the  contrary  : 
yea,  I  double  him  almost — with  my  We  Tuck  I  could 
dwell  in  many  places  and  exchange  friendly  nods  with 
Providence.  ... 

My  love  to  Potter  and  Nellie. ^  To  Demitroia  all  sweet 
things. 

PS. — At  Hoddesdon,  facing  Johnson's  house,  there  is 
a  butcher,  his  name  is  TUCK. 

*  Niece  of  Miss  Grange,  housekeeper  at  Copsham. 

^  Ethel  and  Nellie,  dauglitors  of  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Hardman. 

VOL.  I. — F 


82  LETTERS  OF  GEORGE  MEREDITH 

To  Mrs.  Jessopp. 

COPSHAM,  ESHER. 

My  dear  Mrs.  Jessopp, — I  thought  I  might  have  come 
on  Friday  ;  but  on  that  day  I  have  three  masters  ;  and 
this  is  not  a  figure  of  speech,  but  a  fact  in  flesh.  I  could 
not  get  out  of  harness  till  3  p.m.,  and  the  4  express  would 
have  brought  me  to  you  too  late.  I  should  have  liked 
so  much  to  see  the  boys  and  my  boy  among  them.  He 
has  gro^vn  strange  to  me  in  the  long  absence.  .  .  .  Now 
this  is  my  proposition  : — ^You  will  see  it  is  deUvered 
under  the  perfect  conviction  that  I  am  welcome,  and 
even  wanted : — as  thus  :  I  will  come  to  you  this  quarter 
for  a  week  and  bring  home  my  little  man  at  its  close  : — 
Or  : — I  will  come  to  you  the  next  quarter  for  2-3  weeks, 
lighter  of  heart,  less  burdened  on  head.  I  will  then  write 
nothing  but  poetry  (not  of  hedges  and  ditches)  and  I 
will  bloom  my  best. 

There  ! — You  shall  decide.  If  I  come  now  I  shall  cer- 
tainly not  be  sad  about  it :  I  am  certain  to  be  pleased : 
I  can  make  aU  arrangements  with  a  week's  warning, 
but  I  am  under  some  pressure  :  for  this  reason,  among 
others,  that  my  fastidiousness  has  made  me  turn  from 
my  new  work  to  cut  to  pieces  four  prmted  chapters  of 
Emiha  (who  begins  to  dissatisfy  me  totally,  as  do  all 
my  offspring  that  have  put  on  type).  If  I  come  next 
quarter  this  gloom  and  uncertainty  will  have  vanished. 

You  will  flatter  me  by  deciding.  I  state  the  case — act 
thou.  You  know  I  shall  be  happy  under  the  roof  that 
holds  my  dearest ;  and  more,  among  my  dearest  friends  : 
so  let  your  mandate  be  what  it  may,  hesitate  not. — Have 
I  fijxed  the  onus  upon  you  cleverly  ?  I  have  simply  put 
matters  as  they  stand. 

What  an  unpleasant  thing  for  Holden  is  that  scarlet- 
fever  case  !     Tlie  disease  has  been  going  the  round  of  all 


LETTERS  OF  GEORGE  MEREDITH  83 

the    public    schools.     May    Norwich    be    spared !     Yes  : 
I  trust  :   but  parental  humanity  is  anxious. 

I  shall  write  to  Mr.  Jessopp  in  a  few  days.     Pray,  let 
me  hear  si^eedily. — ^Your  ever  faithful 

George  Meredith. 


To  Frank  Burnand} 

TuNBRiDQE  Wells. 

My  dear  Frank, — ^Your  letter  has  been  forwarded  to 
me  here.  My  housekeeper's  niece  at  the  Cottage  has 
fever  :  fortunately  Sons  were  absent.  So  we  are  all  in 
exile  :  and  consequent^,  I  pronounce  the  dread  word, 
and  he  is  already  breeched  for  school. 

I  shall  be  m  towTi  on  Friday,  and  will  order  '  that ' 
a  cop3^  of  '  Modem  Love  '  '  be  '  sent  you.  The  printers' 
errors  are  innumerable. 

I  am  going  to  Norwich  with  Sons  at  the  end  of  the  week, 
to  the  King  Edward's  Grammar  School,  the  Head  Master 
of  which  is  a  friend,  and  very  fond  of  the  httle  man. 
Write  to  me, '  Care  of  Rev.  A.  Jessopp,  The  School  House, 
Norwich,'  whether  j^ou  can  take  me  for  a  night,  on  my 
return.  If  the  young  Mauritius  ^  is  at  HurstpieqDoint, 
and  wiU  have  me  for  2  or  3  days,  I  shall  then  go  to  him. 
If  you  go  too,  all  the  better. 

That  you  have  been  wearing  the  mask  of  '  Fun  '  for 
some  period,  I  have  knovioi. 

As  often  in  a  biui 

The  currants  you  surprise, 
Behind  the  mask  of  Fun 

I  catch  my  Franco's  eyes. 

^  Later  Sir  Francis  Burnand,  on  the  staff  of  Fun.     He  became  a 
contributor  to,  and  later  editor  of,  Punch. 
*  Maurice  Fitzgerald. 


84  LETTERS  OF  GEORGE  MEREDITH 

To  William  Hardman. 

Oct.  4,  1862. 

Tuck,  Sweet  Charmer,  tell  me  why 
I  'm  at  ease  when  you  are  by  ? 
Have  you  had  '  a  round  '  with  Care, 
Left  him  smoshen,  stript  him  bare. 
That  he  never  more  can  try 
Falls  with  me  when  you  are  by  ? 

Ah,  but  when  from  me  you  're  screened, 
'Atrobihad  glows  the  fiend  : 
Fire  is  wet  and  water  dry  : 
Candles  bum  cocked  hats  awry  : 
Hope  her  diamond  portal  shuts, 
Grim  dyspepsia  haunts  my — Ahem  ! 

(Madrigal  written  in  St.  John's  College,  Cambridge, 
Saturday,  October  4,  1862.) 

Yes  !  I  am  here.  Meeting  of  British  Ass. — So,  why  not  ? 
And  I  Ve  wandered  up  and  down  Trinity  thinking  of 
Tuck,  the  radiant,  and  of  others,  mooning  by  the  Cam, 
into  which  classic  flood  dropped  numerous  dead  leaves. 
I  have  dined  with  Fellows  and  am  to  dine  with  them 
again  :  have  been  cordially  received,  and  inhabit  cham- 
bers of  an  absent  graduate,  whose  slave  is  my  slave. 
Jessopp  brought  me.  We  return  to  Norwich  to-night. 
What  a  good  fellow  he  is  !  His  wife  takes  high  rank 
in  Demitroia's  Corps.  She  is  quite  charming :  she 
unites  worth  and  sweetness  of  nature  and  capacity. 
They  have  the  same  face  for  the  school  that  they  show 
to  the  world.  I  never  conceived  a  place  better  managed. 
Jessopp  has  25  boys  in  his  house.  They  have  studies 
where  2  study  together  and  are  never  intruded  upon. 
He  breakfasts  and  dines  with  them.  We  have  a  good 
deal  of  Prayer.  Oh,  Tuck,  have  we  not  led  thoughtless 
lives  and  snuffed  our  own  conceit !     Tuck  ! 


LETTERS  OF  GEORGE  MEREDITH  85 

In  the  evening,  Jessopp,  his  wife,  a  pretty  niece,  and 
myself,  do  music,  read  Moliere,  and  are  really  happy. 
I  feel  so  much  that  I  would  gladly  Uve  near  them  if  it 
were  possible. 

I  particularly  wish  you  to  know  them.  Tuck  !  It 
would  do  thee  good,  for  an  I  be  not  deceived,  thou  art 
but  a  lost  sheep  and  one  of  the  ungodly. 

The  Dormitories  of  the  boys  are  thoroughly  ventilated, 
cool  as  a  twihght  balcony.  Each  boy  is  partitioned  ofiE 
from  his  neighbour,  and  the  main  punishment  is  for 
infringing  this  partition.  Jessopp  has  sent  up  from  here 
six  scholarships  lately.  Well,  Sons  are  wonderfully 
buoyant  in  a  jiffy.  Mrs.  Jessopp  writes  to  say  that  she 
took  the  boys  to  Lowestoft  yesterday.  Sons  were  so 
independent  that  they  assured  her  they  were  exactly  hke 
the  other  boys  and  didn't  want  looking  after.  This  is 
a  fair  prospect  for  my  dear  man. 

Mrs.  Jessopp  is  the  friend  of  every  resident  in  the 
house,  and  the  bovs  love  her.  In  wit  and  blood  she  is 
one  of  the  brightest  little  women  that  you  can  meet. 
Jessopp  may  well  praise  her  fuie  quaUties.  The  Lord 
decreed  to  him  a  helpmate.  I  say.  Tuck  !  Does  praying 
get  us  wives  of  this  sort  ?  If  so — But  it  is  clear  that 
it  does  not,  for  Tuck  never  goes  on  his  marrow-bones  as 
I  have  been  doing  24  times  per  diem  of  late.  Jessopp 
won't  let  me  depart  till  Monday  week.  I  am  very  com- 
fortable, so  why  not  ? — Then  I  go  to  Sussex  :  then  to 
Richmond,  then  to  Morison,  then  to  Oxford,  then  to 
Glaisher  and  Coxwell,  then  to  Endymion's  dear  Love. 
(I  will  drop  you  some  green  cheese  regularly  at  6  p.m. 
while  there.)  After  that,  Bedlam,  I  suppose,  for  I  don't 
know  of  any  other  place  for  which  I  shall  have  been  such 
an  accompHshed  graduate.  What 's  coming  to  me  ? 
I  feel  the  sensations  of  some  pecuharly  scampish  Racket 
ball.      Love   to — ^now,   don't   get   in   a   passion,   Tuck  I 


86  LETTERS  OF  GEORGE  MEREDITH 

Human  nature  will  out,  sometimes — Potter,  and  Nellie, 
and  Potter's  mother,  and  Nellie's  mother,  and  Tuck's 
wife.  So,  there,  you  see  :  your  jealousy  brings  it  on  you 
three  times  instead  of  once.     Adieu  ! — Your  loving 

George  M. 

To  William  Hardman. 

School  House, 
Norwich,  Oct.  4,  1862. 

Dear  Sir, — I  take  the  liberty  to  write  to  you,  request- 
ing a  line  of  information,  concerning  one.  Tuck,  a  ruddy 
man  and  a  lusty,  with  whom  I  suppose  3-ou  to  be  ac- 
quainted, and  about  whom  I  have  recently  been  feeling 
a  considerable  anxiety.  He  has  relations  at  Hoddesdon, 
Tunbridge  Wells,  and  Norwich  ;  but  they  have  no  recent 
knowledge  of  his  proceedings.  I  have  written  to  him, 
and  can  get  no  reiply.  You  will  acknowledge  that  I  have 
cause  for  anxiety  when  I  tell  you  that  in  a  work  I  have 
lately  been  reading,  it  is  said,  vnth.  regard  to  fleshpots, 
that  he  who  giveth  his  heart  to  them  is  on  the  highroad 
to  perdition.  Which  was  truly  and  sadly  the  case  with 
this  named  Tuck.  A  dangerous  man.  Sir  !  for  he  tempteth 
us  to  love  this  hfe,  and  esteems  it  a  cherishable  thing  : 
yet,  withal,  one  whom  to  Imow  once  is  to  desire  ever.  For 
indeed  such  a  one  is  seldom  seen.  Pity  that  such  roseate 
healthful  bloom  as  that  he  wore  upon  the  cheeks  of  him 
should  be  a  banner  of  Repletion  !  Alas  !  and  that  the 
sunny  perfection  delighting  us  in  him  signified  verily, 
that  Nature,  though  proud  of  this,  struggled  greatly. 
Even  so,  the  notable  rotundity,  the  fine  protuberance, 
was  excess  of  Potatoe  !  Yea,  and  also  the  very  perfect- 
ness  of  him  partoolc  too  largely  of  Francatelli.  Hence 
my  fear  for  the  man  :  in  that  he,  who  was  good  himself 
as  an  egg  fresh-laid,  had  a  love  of  things  good,  and  did 
attract  them  to  him  profusely  :    which  is  against  one  of 


LETTERS  OF  GEORGE  MEREDITH  87 

the  decrees.  Dear  Sir  !  Should  you  see  him,  and  the 
faithful  and  loving  spouse,  be  as  good  as  to  make  Imown 
to  him  these  my  enquiries  ;  and  that,  should  he  be  ill, 
I  recommend  any  cure  but  the  Epicure  :  moreover  (which 
he  will  understand)  that  I  trust  among  the  chief  things 
in  his  life,  that  '  WE  '  may  never  be  split  in  2.  Finally, 
that  I  am  in  Norwich  till  Tuesday  next,  after  that 
Chapman  &  Hall,  Piccadilly  's  my  address,  ...  If  gout 
permit  him  to  use  a  pen.  Gout  alone  can  have  kept 
him  silent  to  his  loving  friend  and  admirer.  I  would  wash 
him  to  know  that  Sons  are  weU  and  happy,  had  a  great 
fall  at  GjTiinastics  last  evening,  being  adventurous,  but 
are  none  the  worse. — Yours  respectfully, 

George  Meredith. 

To  Captain  Maxse. 

The  School  House,  Norwich. 

My  dear  Maxse, — .  .  .  I  can't  leave  here  till  Tuesday. 
They  provide  all  kinds  of  amusement  for  me.  By  the 
way,  Arthur  had  a  tremendous  fall,  the  night  before  last, 
at  gjTnnastics  in  the  crypt  of  the  School  House.  WTiile 
we  were  all  engaged  at  a  particular  swing,  this  small 
man  mounts  up  a  ladder  to  catch  hold  of  a  pole — misses 
it,  and  comes  down  about  sixteen  feet,  not  on  his  head, 
or  arms,  thank  the  Lord  !  I  felt  a  shght  tug  at  m.y 
hand,  and  the  httle  feUow  related  his  disaster,  shaken 
and  sick,  but  pluck  as  stout  as  ever.  No  harm  done, 
and  some  experience  gained.  I  "wdll  give  you  an  account 
of  the  school  when  we  meet.  Yesterday  I  visited  a 
model  Englishman  ;  primarily  a  gentleman  and  scholar  : 
a  Reverend,  also,  with  full  tolerance  and  zeal  for  his 
duties  :  a  farmer,  a  gardener,  and  exhibitor  of  fruits  and 
flowers,  and  \^dnner  of  prizes  :  an  innovator  in  all  things, 
as  a  man  who  in  all  things  thinks  for  himself.  He  is 
besides  a  profound  geologist  and  correspondent  of  LyeU  : 


88  LETTERS  OF  GEORGE  MEREDITH 

a  paleontologist,  the  friend  of  Owen  :  one  of  the  Alpine 
climbers  : — in  short,  the  most  capable  human  creature 
that  I  have  ever  met.  Be  sure  I  studied  him.  He  did 
me  the  favour  to  invite  me  to  stay  with  him,  which  to 
my  regret  I  can't  do  now.  .  .  . — Your  faithful  and  loving 

George  Meredith. 

To  William  Hardman. 

Oct.  11,  1862. 

Embrace  me  once  more.  Oh  Tuck !  Thou  liv'st ! 
This  is  to  chronicle  the  sudden  and  unexpected  descent 
of  the  small  man  from  a  height  of  17  feet  to  the  ground. 
Poor  Sons  little  intended  the  feat  and  therefore  performed 
it  satisfactorily.  In  the  Crypt  here,  there  is  a  Gym- 
nasium, fitted  up  under  a  regular  professor,  who  is  fifth 
master.  One  Reimicke.  He  did  this  and  that,  he  went 
in  and  out  of  this  and  the  other,  and  his  pupils  did  the 
like.  Apparently  Sons  had  their  emulation  violently 
excited,  for  whilst  we  were  aU  engaged  with  other  wonders. 
Sons  must  mount  a  ladder  by  himself,  and  from  the  top 
of  it  make  a  catch  at  a  pole  from  whence  to  slip  down 
naturally,  instead  of  which  he  came  plump  on  to  the 
floor.  I  felt  him  tugging  gently  at  my  hand,  and  could 
not  make  out  what  was  the  matter  with  him.  He  had 
come  to  tell  me  that  he  felt  queer,  and  what  he  had 
*  gone  and  done.'  I  took  him  up  and  his  nerves  gave 
way  just  a  moment  (not  noisily).  Then  we  rubbed  him 
a  bit  and  discovered  him  to  be  sound.  He  was  joUy 
and  ready  for  fresh  adventures  in  |  of  an  hour  ;  wiser 
Sons,  as  we  trust.  My  parental  heart  beat  fast  under  its 
mask.  Jessopp  and  his  wife  (who  is  one  of  the  wives  of 
the  generation)  do  all  that  is  possible  to  make  mo  happy 
in  my  own  way.  They  do  not  want  me  to  go.  They 
do  not  poetise  me  but  honour  me  by  treating  me  as 
simple  flesh,  so  that  one  does  not  feel  mounted  on  a  pole 
a^ad  ultimately   destined   to   come   down   as   Sons   did. 


LETTERS  OF  GEORGE  MEREDITH  89 

Yesterday  I  went  to  visit  a  splendid  fellow,  one  of  the 
most  capable  men  of  his  time.  Whereof  when  we  meet. 
I  stay  with  Morison  in  town.  Shall  I  dine  with  you  on 
Wednesday  ?  He  is  alone,  if  you  could  ask  him  too.  I 
wrote  to  Mr.  Hardman  for  tidings  of  you  ;  but  anticipate 
no  reply — stuck-up  Cambridge  Swell !  Tuck  for  me  !  My 
love  to  everybody.  Geoege  M. 

To  William  Hardman. 

Nov.  6,  1862. 
Tuck,  carissimo  ! — The  news  being  this  :  Jeff  hasn't 
got  R.  Houdin.  If  it  is  to  be  had  at  Nutt's  or  Dulau's, 
it  will  be  immediately  forwarded  to  you.  Lucas  we 
visited  apropos  of  that  fellow  Hardman's  article.  It  is 
to  be  inserted  soon.  I  told  Lucas  Hardman  was  not 
a  fellow  to  be  trifled  with  :  said  *  he  was  a  Gastronome  !  ' 
'  Oh  Lord  !  '  says  Lucas,  *  we  mustn't  offend  him/  I 
remarked  that  Hardman  had  invented  New  Dishes. 
'  God  bless  my  soul,'  ssljs  Lucas,  *  I  should  like  to  know 
him.'  *  But,'  said  I,  '  the  Culmary  comments  of  Tuck, 
dehvered  under  globular  light,  are  not  these  meat,  wme, 
and  wisdom,  and  eclipse  Hardman  as  a  Christmas  flank 
of  beef  lords  it  over  the  leaner  seasons  of  the  year  ?  ' 
*  By  Jingo,'  says  Lucas,  '  it  is  a  privilege  to  know  him  !  ' 
Steadily  facing  my  Editor,  I  said  :  '  And  Tuck  is  my 
pupil.'  He  rung  my  hand  speechless.  *  All  I  exact,' 
said  I,  *  is  that  you  publish  "  Tar  and  Feathers  "  instanter, 
or  you  experience  the  operation.'  He  made  sign  that 
it  should  be  done  within  a  month. 

To  William  Hardman. 

COPSHAM,  ESHER,  Nov.  12,  18C2. 

Tuck,  Great  Heart  ! — I  will  come  to  you  to-morrow, 
and  dine  and  hear  music,  and  sleep,  if  you  can  take  me. 
Dinner  with  *  0.  a  W.'  postponed.   Still  we  carpenter.   It 


90  LETTERS  OF  GEORGE  MEREDITH 

is  great  exercise.  I  have  half  cut  my  great  toe  off  already. 
Axe  went  slap  through  my  big  plodding  boots  and  set  me 
dancing  over  the  meadow  as  if  Demitroia  had  struck  up 
the  Tarantella. 


To  William  Hardman. 

Dec.  10,  1862. 

To-day,  you  know,  I  dine  with  Morison. 
Is  there  a  dinner  with  Tuck  on  the  horizon  ? 

Tuck,  my  treasure  !     Tuck,  my  pleasure  ! 
Lucas  won't  have  a  meeting  at  the  '  Cheshire 
Cheese  '  till  after  Christmas — truly, 
He  's  a  bore  and  I  'm  yours  duly, 

RoEm. 

PS. — And  if  you  love  me,  write  and  say  so. 

'  Quseque  cupit,  sperat,'  sings  Ovidius  Naso. 

To  William  Hardman. 

Dec.  13,  1862. 

Deab  Tuck, — In  reply  to  your  Mandate  this  day 
received  :  Sons  come  up  on  Wednesday  and  sleep  in 
town  that  night :  but  how  can  I  possibly  keep  him  from 
Copsham  on  Thursday  ?  I  fear  me  I  must  take  him 
down.     It  was  his  special  request  six  weeks  ago. 

And  the'  my  Friar's  mandate  is  severe, 
The  wishes  of  the  sons  of  sons  are  dear. 

I  really  fear 
I  must  bring  home  my  little  man  on  Thursday  : 
(As  you  would  rhyme)  that  he  may  in  the  furze  play. 

Acknowledge  that  a  Friar  cannot  always  be  obhged. 
I  shall  regret  not  to  see  the  King  and  Queen  of  B. 

Thine,  Rob. 


LETTERS  OF  GEORGE  MEREDITH  91 

To  William  Hardman. 

Dec.  13,  1862. 

From  Gentz's  Diary.  Tage-Biicher  von  Frieclrich 
von  Gentz.  Ed.  Varnhagen  v.  Ense,  '  J'ai  lu  le  soir  les 
feuilles  infernales  de  Cobbett.' 

1  du  mois  d'avril  (he  reads  it  on  Friday,  21st  July 
1809 — shortly  upon  Wagram,  I  think,  or  Lobau  on  the 
Danube  :  '  La  crainte,  que  je  nourrissais  depuis  quelque 
temps  de  quelque  grave  catastrophe,  menagant  Tinterieur 
de  TAngleterre,  a  ete  prodigieusement  augmentee  par  cette 
lecture,  dont  Teffet  sur  moi — je  ne  puis  le  dissimuler — a 
ete  presque  aussi  grand  que  celui  des  plus  epouvantables 
nouvelles  qui  retentissaient  dans  mon  voisinage  direct.') 

Gentz  was,  by  birth,  a  Prussian,  in  the  Austrian 
diplomatic  service,  of  high  abihty,  much  trusted,  con- 
versant with  Enghsh  pohtics  and  Enghsh  pohticians,  the 
friend  of  Metternich  and  others.  He  writes  this  cer- 
tainly under  excitement,  but  it  is  useful  as  showing  the 
dread  Cobbett  could  inspire  abroad,  the  view  taken  on 
the  continent  of  his  writings  and  their  presumed  results. 

Gentz  evidently  confounds  him  as  utter  Radical. 
Perhaps  you  might  look  out  in  Cobbett 's  Register,  of  this 
date,  and  see  what 's  to  be  gathered.  At  any  rate,  what 
I  have  written  out,  might  make  a  good  foot-note  illus- 
tration. ^ 

To  Tuck  from  Robin 

Sons  come  on  Wednesday  ! — Demitroi'a  will  translate  the 

French 
For  you,  I  am  sure,  if  you  ask  her  humbly. 
In  concord  and  with  reverence.  Adieu,  my  lustj^  Friar. 
Adieu,  adieu,  my  Friar,  he  cried  ; 
0,  much  I  trust  that  they  have  lied,  who  tell  these  things 

of  you. 

^  William  Ilardinan  was  tiion  at  work  upon  a  life  of  Cobbett,  wliicli 
was,  however,  put  aside  when  he  learned  tliat  John  Morlej  was  at 
work  upon  the  same  subject. 


92  LETTERS  OF  GEORGE  MEREDITH 

To  Arthur  G.  Meredith. 

Dec.  15,  1862. 

My  darling  little  Man  ! — I  shall  be  at  Shoreditch 
station,  on  Wednesday,  to  meet  the  Train  at  6.30.  But, 
you  must  not  be  disappointed,  if  I  tell  you  that  it  will  be 
too  late  for  you  to  go  on  to  Esher  that  night ;  and  you 
will  sleep  at  Mrs.  Morison's,  in  Porchester  Square.  Mr. 
Hardman  wants  me  to  dine  with  him  on  Thursday,  but 
I  have  told  him  I  am  afraid  you  won't  let  me.  Copsham 
will  be  delighted  to  see  you.  All  the  dear  old  woods  are 
in  their  best  winter  dress.  Mossy  Gordon  has  come  from 
Eton.  Janet  leaves  England  next  week  ;  but  hopes  to 
see  her  dear  boy  before  she  goes. — Be  careful  not  to  have 
any  larks  in  the  train.  Only  fools  do  that.  As  much  fun 
as  you  like,  but  no  folly.  Look  out  for  Ely  Cathedral, 
just  before  you  get  to  Ely  station.  At  Cambridge  you 
will  see  the  four  towers  of  '  King's  '  Chapel,  built  by 
Cardinal  Wolsey.  Tell  Angove,  that  I  will  get  a  bed  for 
him,  if  he  wishes  to  sleep  in  Town  on  Wednesday  night. 
And  give  Angove  your  address,  written  down  ;  that  he 
may  let  me  know  when  he  will  come  to  London  from 
Cornwall,  and  we  will  go  to  the  theatre  together,  and 
then  he  will  take  you  to  school  again. — Your  lovmg  Papa, 

George  Meredith. 

To  the  Rev.  Augustus  Jessopp. 

EsHEE,  Dec.  23,  1862. 

My  dear  Jessopp, — I  found  my  little  man  looking 
marvellously  brisk  and  clear  of  eye.  All  his  friends  ex- 
claim that  his  school  agrees  with  him.  I  am  altogether 
pleased  and  satisfied,  and  (quoique  pauvre  diable,  comme 
vous  savez)  should  ungrudgingly  pay  double  the  annual 
sum,  to  have  him  with  you  and  your  wife,  which  I  con- 
sider a  privilege  not  to  be  measured  by  money. 


LETTERS  OF  GEORGE  MEREDITH  93 

I  presume  that  if  I  send  to  Bankers  at  Norwich,  accord- 
ing to  directions,  before  the  next  session,  it  will  do. 

I  am  amused  from  morning  to  night  by  Arthur's  account 
of  the  '  boys.'  It  is  as  I  suspected  :  he  knows  their 
characters  consummately.  I  had  the  same  faculty 
when  I  was  young.  But,  whether  he  gets  it  from  de- 
duction, or  nervous  feelers,  or  the  conjunction  of  both, 
I  can't  guess.  He  hopes  to  get  a  prize  next  year  :  speaks 
of  his  success  in  '  dictation  '  ;  not  boastingly  ;  but  to 
assure  him  whom  he  suspects  to  be  a  sceptical  Papa,  that 
he  is  not  lazy  and  not  stupid.  He  is  not,  absolutely, 
either  of  the  two.  He  is  pre-eminently  a  growing  boy, 
and  has  some  characteristics  to  outgrow.  He  wiU  never, 
I  fancy,  do  credit  to  you  by  any  display  of  acquired 
knowledge  ;  but,  after  a  period,  I  think  you  will  find 
that  his  understanding  is  as  sound  as  that  of  any  fellow 
you  have  had  to  do  with. 

He  says  :  '  Jerrard,  minor,  is  the  gentlemanly  boy  of 
the  School.' 

'  Not  Angove,'  I  asked. 

'  Yes,  Angove,  too  ;  but  he  's  not  so  courteous  as 
Jerrard  minor.  Jerrard  minor  always  thinks  of  others 
first.     I  like  him.' 

The  one  point  he  evidently  a  httle  chafes  at  (though 
not  complainingly,  and  with  submission,  poor  mart}^* !) 
is  the  Sunday  religious  exercise,  which  you  have  dared 
to  temper  for  the  poor  lambs,  and  which  they  must  stiU 
think  severe.  I  remember,  at  that  age,  how  all  love  of 
the  Apostles  was  belaboured  out  of  me  by  three  Sunday 
services  of  prodigious  length  and  drowsiness.  *  Corin- 
thians '  wiU  forever  be  associated  in  my  mind  with  rows 
of  wax  candles  and  a  holy  drone  overhead,  combined 
with  the  sensation  that  those  who  did  not  choose  the 
road  to  Heaven,  enjoyed  by  far  the  pleasantcst  way. 
I  cannot  hear  of  Genesis,  or  of  the  sins  of  amorous  David, 


94  LETTERS  OF  GEORGE  MEREDITH 

or  of  Hezekiah,  without  fidgetting  in  my  chair,  as  if  it 
had  turned  to  the  utterly  unsympathetic  Church-wood 
of  yore.  In  despair,  I  used  to  begin  a  fresh  chapter  of 
the  adventures  of  St.  George  (a  serial  story,  continued 
from  Sunday  to  Sunday),  and  carry  it  on  till  the  preacher's 
voice  fell.  Sometimes  he  deceived  me  (I  hope,  not  volun- 
tarily) and  his  voice  bade  St.  George  go  back  into  his  box, 
and  then  ascended  in  renewed  vigour  once  more  ;  leaving 
me  vacant  of  my  comforting  hero  ;  who  was  not  to  bo 
revived,  after  such  treatment.  I  have  known  subsequent 
hours  of  ennui :  but  nothhig  to  be  compared  with  those 
early  ones.  Your  evening  service  is  a  noble  relief,  your 
evening  discourse  most  sensible,  healthy  and  calculated 
to  catch  the  wandering,  youthful  mind.  But,  it  is  the 
third  dose  of  the  day.  Is  it,  therefore,  appreciated  ?  I 
know  you  can't  change  the  system,  even  tho'  you  should 
view  the  case  as  I  view  it.  I  am  merely  prattling.  I 
think  the  drill  an  admirable  idea  for  an  assemblage  of 
anchorites.  The  future  monk  will  be  most  grateful  for 
it.     I  fear  the  future  man  will  revenge  himself. 

I  think  my  friend's  j^acht  starts  on  the  7th  January. 
It  will  be  away  about  six  days.  I  shall  be  back  at  Esher 
in  time.  But  at  that  period  keep  me  informed  of  your 
place  of  abode.  I  would  not  miss  you  for  any  number 
of  yacht  excursions.  On  this  occasion  (snow  promising, 
or  stiff  gales)  I  go  to  please  my  friend,  more  than  myself. 

All  that  a  thankful  Papa  can  say,  to  the  Lady  of  three 
Pussies  black  ! — Alack  ! — ^was  not  the  omen  a  death  ? 

The  best  thing  I  can  wish  you  at  this  season  is.  Strength 
to  conquer  the  Christmas  puddmg  !  I  would  that  I  dined 
at  home  !  I  would  eat  by  the  dictates  of  common  sense 
and  a  discreet  appetite.  As  it  is  I  plunge  with  knowledge 
aforethought  into  a  week's  dyspepsia.  I  shall  be  ridden 
all  night  by  a  plum-pudding-headcd  hag  :  shall  taste  the 
horrors  without  the  vacuity  of  Death  !     We  will  hope 


LETTERS  OF  GEORGE  MEREDITH  95 

better  things  for  our  grandchildren.  Or,  are  we  simply 
degenerate  stomachs  ?  and  ought  we  to  eat  the  fearful 
dainty  (the  British  Cook's  one  Great  Conception)  with 
gratulation  ? — ^Adieu  ! — ^Your  faithful 

George  Meredith. 

To  William  Hardman. 

EsHER,  Dec.  23,  1862. 

My  Christmas  Tuck  ! — I  am  preparing  for  the  pudding 
with  tremendous  exercise.  I  had  made  up  Ta.y  mind  to 
go  with  you  to  Boxing  Night  festivity,  with  Sons  like- 
wise. But,  he  -woQ  not  like  the  Strand.  He  is  ardent 
for  a  jolly  Clown,  a  Pantaloon  of  the  most  aged,  the 
most  hopeless,  a  twirling  Columbine,  a  Harlequin  with 
a  wand  on  everj^body's  bottom.  This  does  the  small 
man  seriously  incline  to.  Can  I  say  Nay  ?  And  he  finds 
he  detests  Plays  and  Burlesques.  1  remember  his  last 
visit  to  the  Strand.  He  is  too  young  for  puns,  so,  if  you 
have  taken  tickets,  sad  shall  I  be  :  but  I  am  for  Drury 
Lane,  or  Co  vent  Garden  :  for  uproar  ;  a  pit  reeking  with 
oranges  ;  gods  that  flourish  pewi;er-pots  and  tricks  that 
stick  and  show  their  mortahty  at  startmg.  Would,  would, 
would  that  Tuck  were  then  at  my  side  !  I  declare  that  I 
have  swung  my  beetle  ^  and  roared  at  anticipated  head- 
long fun  with  Tuck.  1  would  go  to  both  ;  but,  you  see, 
I  have  again  promised  the  Son.  I  must  go  the  following 
night,  and  there  is  the  further  loss  of  time,  if  I  disappoint 
him.  I  understood  you  distinctly  a  Pantomime,  buUy 
Tuck  !  Do  we  quarrel  ?  If  so,  I  send  Love  to  Some- 
body and  snap  my  fingers  at  you.  If  not,  my  regards  of 
the  warmest  to  both. — Your  affectionate 

George  Meredith. 

*  The  beetle — an  iron  weight  at  the  end  of  a  wooden  shaft  ;  this 
was  thrown  into  the  air  and  caught  again  by  the  shaft.  There  is  little 
doubt  that  it  was  this  exercise  which  largely  contributed  to  liis  spinal 
weakness  in  later  years. 


96  LETTERS  OF  GEORGE  MEREDITH 

To  William  Hardman. 

EsHEE,  Isll.ind  of  Copsham 
Jan.  6,  1863. 

TcrcK,   ahoy !     Messmate !     This   is   the   weather   for 
yachting.     Yo — ho — hoi ! 

The  '  Irene  '  tugs  and  runs  amuck 
At  all  she  meets  on  Ocean  bobbin'  : 
Hard  to  the  taffrail  clutches  Tuck  : 
There  's  Httle  of  the  Cock  in  '  Robin  '  ! 

Below,  discussing  pipes  and  beer, 
And  all  that  may  and  all  that  mayn't  be, 
St.  Bernard  says  that  he  feels  queer, 
And  queerer  still  feels  Mrs.  St.  B. 

James  Parthenon  of  tempest  tells 
5  jolly  yachtsmen  once  were  lost  in  ; 
Pales  the  red  cheek  of  Tuck,  as  swells 
With  ocean's  roll  the  gorge  of  Austin. 

'  Now,  do  you  think,  you  Argue-nots,' 
St.  Bernard  asks,  '  seasick  was  Jason  ?  ' 
The  Jolly  yachtsmen  eye  their  cots, 
Austin  cries  '  Ho  ! ' — and  Tuck  '  A  basin  !  ' 

St.  Bernard  hurries  on  the  deck  : 
Not  long  his  chattering  teeth  have  kept  tune 
To  waves  that  threat  the  '  Irene's '  wreck. 
When  one  bears  oS  his  pipe  to  Neptune  ! 

Then  Tuck,  half  doubting  he  's  afloat, 
Rolls  up,  with  eyas,  all  greeny-sheeny  : 
Clutches  St.  Bernard  at  the  throat : 
'  Tell  me  !     Did  Cubitt^  build  the  "  Irene  "  ?  ' 

^  Cubitt,  builder  of  Gordon  Street  and  a  wide  area  in  the  Bloomsbury 
district,  in  which  Hardman'a  home  was  situated.  Cubitt  was  one  of 
the  best  builders  in  London,  or,  indeed,  in  England,  and  his  houses 
are  noted  for  their  excoUeut  construction. 


LETTERS  OF  GEORGE  MEREDITH  97 

Five  jolly  yachtsmen  !     Yachtsmen  five  ! 
And  have  you  seen  five  jolly  yachtsmen  ? 
If  they  're  not  dead,  why  they  're  alive  : 
They  're  sprawling  mid  the  pipes  and  potsmen  ! 

The  ghostly  yacht  which  now  you  '11  see 

Go  sailing  up  the  British  Channel, 

A  Poet  and  a  Friar  there  '11  be 

On  board  :    the  latter  frock'd  in  flannel. 

Like  Lucifers  with  lobsters  dash'd, 

The  hue  upon  their  cheeks  and  noses. 

The  Friar  cries  loud  :   '  Our  fate  we  've  hash'd. 

AVhy  sail'd  we  not  i'  the  time  of  roses  ?  ' 

'  There  was  a  place  called  Gordon  Street ; 
A  planet  known  as  Francatelli,' 


(Here  the  Friar  ventures  on  familiar  and  non-admissible 
rhymes.  He  is  dismissed  to  seek  companionship  with 
the  Flying  Dutchman.) 

Tuck  of  the  Earth  !  I  cannot  come  to  you  to-morrow, 
as  I  have  to  go  to  Chelsea.  I  think  St.  Bernard  will  ask 
me  to  him  for  Thursday.  I  doubt  if  we  meet  this  week. 
If  you  have  aught  pressing  to  communicate,  address — 
16  Cheyiie  Walk,  Chelsea,  S.W.     Adieu. — Your  loving 

George  M. 

A  letter  from  Tasmania  has  reached  me  '  Saved  from 
wreck  of  Colombo.' 


To  the  Rev.  Augiistus  Jessopp. 

EsHER,  Surrey,  Jan.  7,  1863. 
My  dear  Jessopp, — Will  you  come  on  Friday  evening, 
at  6  P.M.,  next  week  ?     I  hope  you  will  stay  the  day 

VOL.  I. — G 


98  LETTERS  OF  GEORGE  MEREDITH 

following  at  least.  I  am  too  modest  to  press  the  cottage 
strongly  upon  j'^ou,  and  bid  you  do  as  it  seemeth  best 
to  you. 

In  the  matter  of  Anchorites.  Do  you  really  beheve 
them  to  have  been  men  of  thews  and  breadth  of  brow  ? 
Yes,  if  they  have  slaughtered  their  dozens  and  begin  to 
think  Heaven  a  pleasant  resting-place.  As  a  rule,  No. 
Endurance  is  not  a  test  of  the  fact.  The  physi-cally 
robust  man  would  have  wasted  and  succumbed.  The 
bilious  and  nervous  man  will  last  longer  than  the  san- 
guine. Physiology  will  tell  you  much.  Then  again,  can 
I  morally  admire,  or  reverence,  or  see  positive  virtue  in, 
St.  Simeon  ?  Was  he  a  hero,  of  his  kind  ?  Does  the 
contemplation  of  him  brmg  us  nearer  to  God  ?  To  what 
a  God  !  I  turn  aching  in  all  my  flesh  to  ad«re  the  Pagan, 
in  preference.  He  smites  kind  nature  in  the  face,  to  please 
his  God  ! — St  Sim.  may  be  a  very  strong  man.  Granting 
it,  I  shall  think  more  of  Milo.  He  tears  up  the  groan- 
ing oak,  which  I  hold  better  than  to  pluck  with  fanatic 
fingers  at  the  roots  of  humanity. — Don't  you  see  that  it 
is  not  adoration  moves  the  stinking  Samt,  but,  basest  of 
prostrations,  Terror.  Terror,  mighty  to  knit  a  man  for 
endurance  when  allied  to  a  crmgmg  greed  for  a  fair 
celestial  seat. — The  truth  is,  you  sniff  the  sublime  in  this 
creature.  Your  secret  passion  is  for  sublimity.  Beauty 
you  love  ;  but,  by  the  way,  under  protest ;  and  with 
the  sense  of  being  a  siimer.  Clerical  training  is  to  blame. 
But,  change  the  system.  Beauty  is  to  be  sought — let 
sublimity  come.  Both  are  rare  :  but  the  former  is  our 
portion — belongs  to  us.  To  deface  it,  is  not  sublime — 
villainous,  rather  !  To  outrage  reason  as  well  as  beauty, 
shows  the  organisation  of  a  ruffian.  Be  not  misled  by 
this  dirty  piece  of  picturesque  Rehgiosity,  animated  : 
my  gorge  rises  !  I  hold  my  nostrils.  I  cry  for  a  South- 
west wind  to  arise.     Plunge  them  into  the  pit,  0  Lord  ! 


LETTERS  OF  GEORGE  MEREDITH  99 

these   worshippers   of   the    pillar. — '  Cujus   ad    effigiem, 
tantum  non  meiere,  fas  est,' — Your  faithful 

George  Meredith. 

To  Captain  Maxse. 

Garrick  Club. 

My  dear  Fred, — '  Rhoda  '  now  rushes  to  an  end. 
I  don't  at  all  know  what  to  think  of  the  work.  I  am 
confused  by  this  frost.     It  nips  and  impoverishes  me. 

By  the  way  : — What  of  the  dog  ?  If  you  haven't  heard 
of  him,  it  is  by  no  means  improbable  that  he  has  left  the 
neighbourhood,  the  County,  the  south-west,  in  fact,  and 
trotted  back  to  Yorkshire.  The  CoUey  is  famous  for 
his  '  sagacity '  as  the  Natural  History  books  say,  in  this 
respect ;  and  wiU  find  his  way  back  to  a  point  in  Scotland 
out  of  England.     ' 

Please  write.  You  haven't  my  excuse.  I  see  you  in 
that  dear  httle  room,  warm,  with  one  eye  on  a  winter 
prospect,  snow  and  black  river  between  the  banks. — 
Tell  me,  how  the  frost  takes  you  ;  kindly  or  not. — 
Gilmore,  a  propos  of  acting  and  art,  is  powerful.  He  is 
a  thorough  '  Gallery  '  critic — abates,  adores,  flings  his 
orange-peel  and  empties  his  brandy-flask,  and  is  quite 
satisfied  with  himself  at  the  conclusion. 

IMiss  Bateman  is  said  to  have  failed  as  '  Julia.'  I  can 
see  that  to  be  possible,  though  I  bow  to  her  Leah.  Let 
me  have  a  letter  speedil3^ — Yours  lovingly, 

George  Meredith. 

To  William  Hardman. 

Jan.  28,  1S63. 

Dear  '  at  any  price  '  Tuck  ! — I  come.  Dinner  j'-ou 
give  me  at  half -past  five,  I  presume  ?  A  note  to  Foakes- 
den,  if  earlier.  Let  us  have  5  ms.  for  a  pipe,  before 
we  go.     You  know  we  are  always  better  tempered  when 


100        LETTERS  OF  GEORGE  MEREDITH 

this  is  the  case.  I  come  in  full  dress.  And  do  the  honour 
to  the  Duke's  motto.  I  saw  my  Uttle  man  ofi  on  Monday, 
after  expedition  over  Bank  and  Tower.  Thence  to 
Pym's,  Poultry  :  oysters  consumed  by  dozings.  Thence 
to  Purcell's  :  great  devastation  of  pastry.  Thence  to 
Shoreditch,  where  Sons  calmly  said :  '  Never  mind, 
Papa  ;  it  is  no  use  minding  it.  I  shall  soon  be  back  to 
you,'  and  so  administered  comfort  to  his  forlorn  Dad. — 
My  salute  to  the  Conquered  One,  and  I  am,  your  loving, 
hard-druv,  much  be-bulhed  Robin. 


To  William  Hardman. 

CopSHAM,  Feb.  1,  1863. 

Dear  Tuck  ! — Come,  if  you  can  tear  yourself  away,  on 
Wednesday.  Dinner  at  6|,  Orridge  and  wife,  Wyn- 
dowe.  Robin,  most  anxious.  .  .  .  We  are  likely  to 
have  a  good  fine  blowing  afternoon  for  the  heath  and 
the  woods  :   I  say  no  more.     Only 

Write  me  no  pretty  note 
Puling  excuses. 
Scorned  by  the  Muses, 
Who  's  tied  to  a  petticoat ! 

A  new  receipt : — I  try  it  on  Orridge  to-night.  *  Lark 
Pood'n.'  *  A  bottom  of  stout  juicy  steak,  topped  by  2  doz. 
I  bearded  oysters,  topped  by  1  doz.  larks.'  General 
sentiment  by  anticipation — '  Gallopschtious  !  '  I  have 
an  idea  that  2  kidneys  might  be  introduced.  I  have 
hitherto  refrained  from  touching  a  lark  :  not  wishing 
that  divine  bird  to  send  reproaches  to  me  from  heaven 
and  fill  the  foundation  of  my  digestion  with  remorse. 
Do  I  degenerate  ?  Is  it  recklessness  ?  Or  the  noble 
prosecution  of  science,  the  wish  to  know  aU  ? — Adieu  ! 
It  is  friendship  that  says  '  Come  !  '     What  reply  ? 


LETTERS  OF  GEORGE  MEREDITH         101 

No,  he  wouldn't  leave  his  wife 
And  he  shouldn't  leave  his  wife. 
He  didn't  go  to  Copsham 
'Cause  he  couldn't  leave  his  wife. 

Robin  Laurelpate. 
To  Captain  Maxse. 

ESHER. 

My  dear  Maxse, — The  principle  of  health  is  this,  to 
make  good  blood  plentifully,  and  to  distribute  it  pro- 
perly. Exercise  of  the  right  sort,  acting  on  seasonable 
diet,  keeps  the  machine  clear.  Sweating  saves  us  from 
impurities,  at  all  events.  The  form  of  exercise  must 
depend  upon  observation  of  our  peculiar  economy.  As 
a  rule,  walking  much  is  only  good  for  people  in  health, 
any  other  exercise  you  can  stop  the  moment  you  Ve  had 
enough  :  but  you  can't  exactly  time  your  distances  : 
and  the  instantaneous  effect  of  fatigue,  where  there  's  one 
weak  function,  is  to  fall  upon  it  bodily.  A  weak  stomach 
is  thus  awfully  oppressed  by  long  walks.  .  .  . 

My  best  soUtary  exercise  is  throwing  the  beetle — a 
huge  mallet  weighing  18  or  19  pounds — and  catching  the 
handle,  performing  wondrous  tricks  therewith.  The  best 
in  the  world  is  fencing,  which  braces  the  nerves,  tightens 
muscles,  occupies  brain,  better  than  anything  going  : 
contains  fit  measure  of  excitement  and  is  thorough  exer- 
cise. Boxing  is  a  little  brutal,  though  good.  Fencing 
brightens  the  eye  without  blackening  it.  Avoid  beer, 
which  is  gaseous  exceedingly.  You  see,  very  old  ale  is 
too  strong  for  the  head,  if  drunk  as  ale  :  and  the  young 
unseasoned  beer  we  drink  has  to  be  digested  with  diffi- 
culty. Avoid  new  wines.  A  bottle  of  oldish  claret  might 
serve  you  four  days.  See  that  it 's  good  and  sound. 
That  makes  blood  without  heating.  Your  evenings — 
but  what  are  an  Englishman's  evenings  ?     Hotbeds  of 


102        LETTERS  OF  GEORGE  MEREDITH 

dyspepsia,  as  a  rule.  There  should  be  Uveliness,  music, 
billiards,  dancing,  dialogue,  laughter — choice  of  all  these. 
Instead  of  which — I  ask  you  ! 

Don't  drive  your  mind  a  step. 

I  hope  I  shall  come  to  you  soon,  and  then  we  'U  see 
better  what  your  condition  is.  We  must  hear  the  nightin- 
gales together.  Last  night  I  had  them  all  round  me  on 
the  heath.  The  woods  were  one  orchestral  semicircle. 
What  priceless  weather,  0  my  friend  !  And  how  of  your 
Ladj^e  ?  Ah,  happy  you  !  At  this  season  what  a  beggar 
am  I,  that  hold  out  my  hand  and  touch  space  at  my 
fingers'  ends  !  Back  comes  the  blood  to  my  heart,  which 
says,  '  WeU  !  let 's  strike  on  like  a  hammer,  then  !  ' 
Ding-dong,  is  my  tune. 

I  saw  Borthwick  the  other  day,  and  see  that  your 
brother  has  got  Hehgoland,  where  his  wife  will  help  to 
make  him  popular.  Altogether  a  good  appointment, 
my  Lord  !  Here  the  Princesse  Frangoise  marries  the 
Due  de  Chartres.  First  cousins  !  But  necessity  of  state 
overbears  the  duties  of  flesh.  They  must  marry  some- 
thing Royal,  and  what  if  their  children  howl,  or  hang 
limp,  so  long  as  the  blood  is  kept  pure  ? — The  philosopher 
laughs  sadly  at  these  things.  He  inclines  to  say  '  Down 
with  Institutions  !  '  They  do  much  for  us — do  they  not 
undo  more  ?  The  truth  is  that  everything  that  is  would 
be  right  (according  to  the  optimist,  who  sees  half  the 
truth)  would  be  right,  I  say,  if  we  were  just  wise  enough 
to  pluck  the  flower  and  not  tie  ourselves  to  the  roots. 
So  the  age  of  an  Institution  (quiconque)  becomes  the 
slavery  of  its  supporters.  To  know  when  a  thing  hath 
perished,  or  is  vital,  is  one  of  the  tests  of  wisdom.  Figure 
to  yourself  a  lover  who  hears  a  voice  in  his  ghastly  bosom, 
demanding  answer  to  the  question,  '  Was  it  all  delusion  ?  ' 
And  thus  he  bases  his  logic — *  Impossible  ;  it  could  not 
be  delusion,  for  the  dream  was  so  immense,  the  rapture 


LETTERS  OF  GEORGE  MEREDITH        103 

so  heavenly.'  We  all  cling  to  the  days  that  were  and 
won't  be  sons  of  Time.  To  be  the  sticks  and  stones  of  a 
glorified  past  day  we  think  better. — Better  be  men,  I 
say  ! 

Alas  !  those  visits  of  the  meek  and  guileless  clergy  ! 
Thou  errant  one,  that  art  invited  to  archery  Meetings  ! — 
'tis  to  the  pew  thou  art  being  lured,  or  dragged  perforce. 
— Love  to  boy.  My  kindest  regards  to  your  beloved, 
and  know  me  ever,  your  loving  George  M. 


To  William  Hardman. 

Piccadilly,  March  20,  1863. 

Tuck,  Great  Archer  ! — Thrice  thy  shaft  has  hit  me  ! 
— On  Thursday  night  we  meet  at  Robert  Cook's.  On 
Wednesday  I  shall  dine  with  thee  ?  I  am  overwhelmed 
with  disgust  at  '  Emilia.'  Am  hurrying  her  on  like  Ye 
Deuce.  She  will  do.  But,  ahem  ! — she  must  pay.  I 
have  taken  some  trouble  with  her  and  really  shall  begin 
to  think  her  character  weak  in  this  respect,  if  she  don't 
hand  m  what  I  think  due,  speedily.  I  'm  afraid,  con- 
sidering hopes  of  cash,  house  to  build,  linen  to  buy,  that 
'  Once  a  Week  '  will  hold  me  from  St.  B.  and  the  Blue 
Medi  T.  .  .  .  Longing  to  see  you,  and  with  L.  to  a  person 
who  will  pardon  the  impudence,  and  is  not  of  the  great 
host  who  care  onljT'  to  see  2  strokes  put  through  the 
middle  of  that  eloquent  letter. — Your  devoted 

George  M. 

To  William  Hardman. 

CorsH^vM,  April  8,  1863. 

Your  medicines  and  directions  came  opportunely,^ 
deciding  me  not  to  send  for  Izod.  Sons  are  as  a  mul- 
berry in  the  shade,  they  are  spotted  hke  a  Pard,  they  are 

^  Arthur  had  caught  measles.  Hardman  was  an  enthusiastic 
homoeopath,  in  which  belief  Meredith  shared. 


104  LETTERS  OF  GEORGE  MEREDITH 

hot  as  boiled  cod  in  a  napkin  ;  they  care  for  nothing  but 
barley  water,  which  I  find  myself  administering  at  all 
hours  of  the  night,  and  think  it  tolerable  bhss,  and  just 
worth  living  for,  to  suck  an  orange.  I  am  sorry  to  say 
they  have  a  rather  troublesome  cough,  otherwise  all  goes 
well. — Your  loving  George  M. 

To  Captain  Maxse. 

EsHEE,  May  1863. 

My  dear  Maxse, — I  believe  fully  that  the  globules 
are  efficacious.  I  have  seen  them  produce  the  effects 
specifically  intended. 

Vegetable  diet  is  generator  of  gases  in  a  weak  stomach. 
Moreover  the  pasturing  on  grass  does  not  make  a  soul 
milder.  My  experience  is  this  :  that  no  healthy  person 
ever  takes  to  vegetable  diet,  excluding  meat :  but  that 
some  people  may  make  themselves  more  clean  and  sound 
if  they  do  so,  for  the  reason  that  weak  blood  is  apt 
to  be  irritated  b}^  the  juices  of  flesh,  which  are  too  strong 
for  it.  All  that  I  have  ever  known  take  to  vegetable 
diet  were  scrofulous,  in  the  second  or  third  degree  :  not 
robust  and  pure.  The  best  thing,  now  and  then,  is  a 
chop  and  bread  for  dinner.  If  the  stomach  is  quite 
down,  eschew  potatoes  as  well  as  beer.  In  exercise  see 
mainly  that  you  open  the  chest.  Don't  sit  long  at  a 
time.  Read  out  for  a  space.  Rise  quickly  in  the  morn- 
ing. Exercise  after  bath  ;  and  pray  do  not  be  more 
than  half  an  hour  without  feeding,  if  you  only  take  a 
crust  of  bread  and  water.  Your  Moulsey  habit  of  long 
morning  fasts,  I  remember.  To  bed  early  :  but  if  you 
feel  heavy  take  dumb-bell  exercise.  This  must  bring 
you  round.  Continue  pepsiue,  with  now  and  then  a  halt. 
Take  no  *  iron.'  A  wineglass  of  quinine  half  an  hour 
before  dinner  for  three  or  four  days  running  might  do 
good.  .  .  . — Your  faithful  George  M. 


LETTERS  OF  GEORGE  MEREDITH        105 


To  the  Rev.  Augustus  Jessopp. 

EsHER,  1863. 

My  dear  Jessopp, — There  is  a  10.57  train  from  London 
to  your  City — which  snatches  small  boys  from  the  hearts 
of  their  parents.  On  Tuesday  next,  my  little  recovered 
rosy  man  will  journey  down,  alone,  by  that  train,  chewing 
the  cud  of  anticipating  fancy  (I  hope).  The  Guard  will 
be  bribed  to  keep  eye  on  him.  Will  you  send  some  person 
to  meet  him  ?  He  will  be  somewhat  at  sea,  with  his 
swoln  bag,  in  the  press  of  an  arrival. 

Thank  Mrs.  Jessopp,  from  me,  for  her  last  letter. 

She  will  know,  that,  whatever  inconsiderate  relatives 
might  do,  my  care  for  the  sanitary  condition  of  K. 
Ed.  6th's  Grammar  School  is  too  great  to  permit  me 
to  allow  a  convalescent  to  return  without  performance 
of  proper  quarantine.  I  expect  great  praise  from  her. 
And  indeed,  my  heart  is  heavy  at  parting.  I  let  him  go 
from  me  now  under  a  high  sense  of  duty.  What  strange 
dispensation  is  it  which  gives  you  my  boy  for  the  best 
portion  of  his  young  years  ? 

I  am  in  alarm  about  his  boating  on  your  river  before 
he  can  swim. 

Is  there  always  some  responsible,  careful  fellow  in  the 
boats  with  the  youngsters  ?     Pra}^  tell  me. 

And  also,  write  to  me,  I  beg,  to  let  me  know  that  he 
comes  safe  to  you.  Address,  Chapman  &  HaU,  for 
Wednesday  morning. 

As  to  your  book,  those  pubhshers  will  not  do.  I  should 
certainly  put  my  finger  on  MacmiUan.  If  not,  then 
Longman,  who  is  a  gentleman,  as  well  as  man  of  business. 

I  had  the  pleasure  of  exchanging  salutes  with 
Mr.  Jessopp  of  Cheshunt  on  Friday  morning,  as  I  was 
returning  from  Hoddesdon. 


106        LETTERS  OF  GEORGE  MEREDITH 

If  you  will  take  me  in  for  a  few  days  at  the  end  of 
May  or  beginning  of  June,  I  wiU  gladly  come,  and  see 
some  cricket,  among  other  things. — Your  very  faithful 

George  Meredith. 


To  William  Hardman. 

June  30,  1863. 

The  Record 

Of  Robin's  sad  Effort  to 

Fool 

For  the  Beguilement  of  his  Sov.  Lord 

Tuck 

'  A  lady,  the  other  day,  having  cut  half  her  acquaintance, 
cut  her  own  finger  I '  Nay,  my  Lord,  spare  the  lash  1 
I  will  get  better.  Robin,  on  being  told  that  he  was 
imitating  the  jesting  of  Bumand,  replied  :  '  Didn't  I  teU 
you  I  was  robbin'  Bumand  !  '  Ha  !  Ha  ! — ^\Miat ! 
Still  frowns  my  Lord  ? 

On  receiving  your  commands,  I  thought  first  of  hunting 
up  the  King  and  Queen  ^  for  matter  new  and  strange  :  but 
calls  upon  me  kept  me  from  them.     I  dined  yesterday 

with    one    C ,    Lord    CarUsle's    Secretary,    who    met 

Swinburne  at  Mihies's,  and  got  him  to  brmg  about  a 
meeting  ;  after  which,  to  astonishment  of  Poet,  said  P. 
was  dropped.  We  dined  at  St.  James's  Club,  after  passing 
the  afternoon  at  Lord's  Cricket  Ground,  where  we  saw 
Gentlemen  against  Players.  First-rate  match,  and  I  had 
a  fine  set  of  characters  about  me  :  old  country  squires  ; 
knights    and    lords  ;    old  cricketing  hands  hot    for  the 

honour  of  the  game.     Notably  a  Colonel  M amused 

me,  and  shall  see  himself  if  he  looks  one  day  in  a  book 

^  Mr.  and  Jlra.  Stephen  Hamilton. 


LETTERS  OF  GEORGE  MEREDITH        107 

of  mine.     Then  in  the  evening  talks  C of  ME  :  of  the 

effect  of  my  work  on  him  :  and  to  the  effect  that  in  the 
circles  he  best  knew,  your  Robin  had  made  impression 
deep.  That :  that :  and  that ! — He  's  a  nice  fellow  ; 
with  good  sense  :   handsome.  .  .  . 


To  William  Hardman, 

July  4,  1863. 

Dropping  out  of  Chapman  and  Hall's  the  other  day,  I 
fell  on  the  placid  face  of  Poco,i  who,  without  a  ruffle  of 
his  surface  received  me,  that  would  have  sent  a  hundred 
million  ripples  crossing  rosily  over  Tuck.  The  Senor 
Poco  spoke  of  a  bad  man — ^poor  vulgarian,  that  he  is  ! 
and  without  reverence,  or  holiness.  Not  yet  of  the 
Elect,  yet  is  this  foreigner  hopeful,  and  one,  let  us  hope, 
as  we  may,  of  a  right  promising  future.  He  hath  desire 
in  him  for  companionship  among  the  Pantags  :  humble 
desire  ;  and  he  taketh  his  occasional  most  healthful 
snubbing.     He  is  going  to  send  you  the  '  Court  Journal.' 

.  .  .  By  the  way,  C told  me  that  when  Prins  was  at 

Curragh  he  came  to  the  Vice-Regal  Lodge,  and  played 

cricket.     C warned  all  the  opposition  bowlers  that 

Royal  patronage  of  the  manly  game  depended  on  Prins 
getting  at  least  one  run.  Having  missed  whilst  fielding, 
two  fine  smack-into-the-hand  catches,  Wales  goes  in,  and 
faces  an  unnamed,  steady,  determined  Briton  of  a  bowler, 
round,  ruddy  —  an  inevitable  creature  :  one  clearly 
selected  by  the  Gods  to  do  this  black  business  with  the 
utmost  satisfaction  and  comfort.  Down  went  the  wicket 
of  your  Prins  at  the  first  delivery  of  ball !  To  make 
matters  worse,  some  wretches  (not  knowing  that  the 
wicket  was  a  royal  one,  or  not  feeling  that  the  knocking 
of  it  over  was  rank  treason  to  the  Throne  and  to  cricket) 

*  Lionel  Robinson. 


108  LETTERS  OF  GEORGE  MEREDITH 

applauded  lustily.     Your  Prins  marched  out  with  his  bat 
amid  the  thunders. 

At  the  first  ball  his  wicket  fell,  and  sins 
No  more  has  batted  your  illustrious  Prins. 

There,  Tuck  !    Now  don't  say  I  am  not  out  harvesting  for 
your  dehght.   And  I  '11  get  more  stories  for  you,  don't  fear  I 

To  William  Hardman. 

July  1863. 

Dearest  Cupid — ^Tuck  ! — I  thought  it  all  along  ! 
I  said  :  '  This — my  Friar  whom  I  love — must  be  the  Rosey 
Boy,  well  plumped  on  British  fare.'  And  now  that  the 
G.  M.  (Oh  ! — dost  thou  mark  the  similarity  of  initials 
most  wondrous  !  Yea,  is  it  not  full  of  meaning  !)  ac- 
knowledges that  she  came  up  the  Mersey  in  a  cockle-shell. 
Tuck  cannot  deny  that  he  is  Cupidon.  And  'tis  he  who 
has  twanged  his  bow  and  done  Robin  this  dreadful 
damage — Alack  !  No  more  of  this.  But  seriously,  you, 
leaning  over  the  side  of  a  fat  Olympian  cloud  floating 
over  Copsham.  I  see  you  turn  to  Demitroia-Psyche. 
'  Poor  Robin,'  you  say.  '  Let 's  have  him  here,'  says 
she.  '  He  '11  never  get  to  heaven,'  says  you,  '  till  a 
woman  brings  him.'     '  True,'  sighs  D-P. 

(Damn  that  Tuck — ho  kisses  her,  pretends  she  wants 
to  be  consoled  ! — Has  Oljonpus  no  shades  ?) 

Write  to  me  care  of  Maurice  Fitz-Gerald,  Esq.,  Scaford, 
Sussex.  I  shall  be  there  perchance  a  week,  and  yet  a 
day  more,  unless  they  gamble  awfully.  .  .  . 

Why  don't  you  tell  me  how  your  sisters  are  ?  They  're 
married,  you  know.  You  're  right  to  protect  your 
mother,  but  your  sisters  have  husbands.  Good-bye. 
I  hope  to  be  able  to  spin  hveUer  rubbish  when  I  have 
taken  rest,  and  seen  new  men,  fresh  faces,  other  minds. 

George  M. 


LETTERS  OF  GEORGE  MEREDITH         109 

To  William  Hardman. 

Seafobd,  Hades,  July  10,  1863. 

Dear  Tuck, — (A  letter  to  the  above  address  will  find 
me.)  Oh  ! — But  rage  and  anguish  stifle  me  !  I  tell  thee, 
Tuck, — Why  should  I  teU  thee  who  carest  not  ?  Here 
am  I — as  an  animal.     Our  life  is  monstrous. 

My  breakfast  would  supply  a  Workhouse  :  my 
luncheons  are  equal  to  the  refections  of  four  fat  Friars  : 
my  dinner  would  satiate  the  soul  of  a  ticl^et-of -leave  man. 
I  go  to  bed  when  Apollo  lays  his  red  nose  over  the  Eastern 
hUl,  and  hght-foot  hours  carry  it  on  their  shoulders  in 
triumph  to  27  Gordon  Street,  what  time  Tuck,  with  a 
final  snore,  says,  '  Blow  it !  '  and  consents  to  rise.  .  .  . 
Here  is  Frank  Burnand  that  reeks  puns  from  every  pore  : 
Maurice  and  Gerald  Fitzgerald,  Signor  Vignati,  Hynd- 
man  (Cambridge),  Lawrence,  painter,  and  others  coming. 
I  suppose  I  shall  stop  through  next  week.  I  don't  think 
it  possible  for  me  to  start  with  you.  Of  course  I  shall 
foUow  you — don't  fear  !  You  have  a  little  wounded, 
and  shot  an  arrow  at  your  Robin,  for  why  couldn't  you 
wait  for  him  ?  Or  consult  with  him  about  going  ? 
Still,  I  do  give  you  my  word  that  there  is  great  probability 
of  my  running  over  to  join  you  during  your  last  two 
weeks.  Write  and  say,  before  you  go,  what  you  fancy 
will  be  your  arrangements.  And,  O  Tuck,  write  from 
among  the  mountams,  that  will  look  on  you,  and  teU  me 
of  the  hearts  to  whom  your  COMPANION  shall  have 
imparted  swift  emotion  and  a  habit  of  breathing.  Of 
Demitroia  tell  me.  Of  her  health  and  spirits.  .  .  .  Tell 
me  of  yourself  fully.  Say  where  you  are  to  be  found 
in  or  about  Thun  ;  and  instruct  me  of  the  means  of 
getting  to  you.  I  had  passionately  desired  to  see  great 
wonders  of  creation  with  my  Tuck,  so  that  in  days  to 


110        LETTERS  OF  GEORGE  MEREDITH 

come,  when  Robin  is  as  a  rushlight,  and  Tuck  one  of 
Price's  Patent  Composite  Tallow-vats,  we  two  may  say — 
'  This  we  saw,  and  that  we  saw,  green  Alpine  lakes  where 
the  brides  of  the  angels  bathe  ;  snows  pure  as  the  fore- 
head of  YOUR  COMPANION  ;  peaks,  passes,  and  aU 
the  other  P.'s  ' : — onl^'',  my  Tuck,  the  subhme  and 
beautiful  should  for  ever  stand  as  witnesses  of  a  marriage 
of  our  true  affection,  the  same  being  registered  in  verse 
immortal  by  reason  of  the  subject. 

In  Thun,  you  will  see  Jessopp  :  haply,  may  you  hear 
him  out  of  tune  (notes  of  Burnand).  But,  if  you  hear 
him — Think  of  a  Cockchafer  informing  the  world  that 
his  wife  has  run  away  from  him : — so  deep,  so  desolate  the 
voice  of  Jessopp.  Take  to  thy  mind  Nature's  bassest 
note  :  conceive  a  voice  milHons  of  fathoms  below  the 
crust  of  earth  :  the  incarnation  of  three  Minor  Canons 
primed  for  their  holy  labours  on  port  :  a  Cathedral  voice  : 
a  voice  that  you  shake  to  and  curiously  look  to  see 
whether  one  works  his  coat-tails  as  bellows  to  inflate  and 
give  inspiration  to  such  a  voice  : — even  such  the  voice  of 
Jessopp.  He  desires  very  much  to  see  and  know  you. 
Do  your  best  to  meet  him.  I  know  that  Demitroia  has 
exchanged  words  with  his  wife.  Enough.  Comfort  my 
heart  with  a  letter  or  two.  I  am  rather  knoclced  over 
by  seeing  yoa  depart,  and  feeling  rather  bound.  I  have 
the  consolation  (Poor  !  Poor  !)  of  knowing  that  you  will 
long  heartily  for  Gordon  Street  after  a  week's  absence. 
Well :  Good-bye !  I  wish  you  all  joy.  Demitroia, 
your  COMPANION,  Hinchhffe,  and  the  3  joUy  good 
fellows  rolled  into  the  one  Tuck,  whom  I  know  and  love. 

To  Mrs.  Hardman. 

Seaford,  Sussex,  July  12,  1863. 

Most  fair  and  dp^ar  Sceptic, — Now  it  was  told  of  a 
man  that  an  angel  leaned  out  of  heaven  and  dropped  to 


LETTERS  OF  GEORGE  MEREDITH         111 

him  a  ring,  of  which,  he  said,  Catch  hold  :  and  the  man 
sought  to  catch  hold  :  but  ever  the  ring  swayed,  and  its 
swaying  was  the  promise  of  bliss  and  the  baffling  of  desire. 
So  the  man  thought.  If  I  jump  I  catch  it.  And,  lo,  he 
jumped.  And  at  the  first  jump  touched  the  ring,  which 
flew  from  him.  At  the  second  jump  likewise,  and  in 
addition  his  falhng  was  upon  his  nose.  Even  so  he  went 
at  the  3rd  and  4th  essay,  and  on.  Then  thought  he  : 
This  ring  is  cast  so  far  from  me  because  that  an  Angel 
dropped  it  so  near  !  Alas  !  What  sadder  thing  is  there 
to  the  fuU  heart  of  great  wishes  than  the  word  '  Almost.' 
If  the  man,  dear  Critic  of  weakness,  had  seen  the  said  ring 
distant,  he  had  remarked — The  birds  of  the  air  may 
catch  it ;  but  it  hung  within  mortal  grasp — almost  ! 
He  could  just  touch  it.  The  effort  to  seize  sent  it  heaven- 
ward— him  to  earth.  Yet,  0  Heaven  !  as  Ocean  collects 
her  billows  for  one  great  jjlunge,  I  know  not  but  that  I 
will  try.  I  see  that  you  are  making  a  circuit,  and  that 
the  Wild  Man  of  Gordon  Street  is  for  pranks,  so  to  be 
with  you  one  must  start  with  you.  If  you  see  me  on 
Tuesday  it  will  be  that  I  have  come  to  to^vn  to  make 
immediate  arrangements  for  joming  you  for  the  reason 
partly,  that  the  Wild  Man  is  not,  in  my  opinion,  a  fitting 
protector  of — of  you,  of  course  he  is  (after  a  fashion),  of, 
I  was  going  to  say — and  it  is  no  use  his  frowning  at  Table 
d'Hote  ;  for  they  vail  openly  admire  a  lovely  woman  on 
the  Continent :  where,  let  me  add.  Beauty,  if  not  jealously 
watched  and  guarded  .  .  .  and  the  fresh  EngUsh  wild 
rose  without  a  disengaged  hand  and  forecasting  mind  to 
pave  its  way  may  be  in  danger'  of  a  moment's  sensitive 
disquiet — at  the  contemplation  of  which  possibility  the 
hearts  within  us  do  painfully  pant  and  heave.  But  let 
us  talk  seriously.  Is  your  COMPANION  quite  well  ? 
May  I  beg  you  to  present  her  with  my  kind  regards. 
Prompted   by   the   fatherly   feeling    (which   must   exist 


112        LETTERS  OF  GEORGE  MEREDITH 

though  the  position  be  denied  to  me)  pray  assure  that 
young  lady  that  I  am  pervaded  by  the  very  warmest 
interest  in  her  welfare,  and  claim,  by  right  of  my  expressed 
admiration  (that  excessive  daring  might  call  affection)  of 
another  and  greater  from  whom  she  springs,  to  declare 
that  my  sentiments  on  her  behalf  are  parental  in  their 
depth. 

All  this  means  that  if  I  can,  can,  can — I  will :  that 
there  is  just  a  chance  :  that  I  am  going  to  make  the  spring, 
and  if  the  ring  don't  swing  I  may  cling  Uke  anything, 
and  just  be  caught  up  to  a  six  weeks'  Heaven  among  you, 
and  nothing  short  of  it  under  your  wing.  My  state  no 
Weather-cock,  with  a  thunder-storm  on  the  South-east, 
and  the  wind  North-west,  would  describe.  Pierrot 
straightening  hands  and  legs  to  dance  facing  the  four 
comers  alternately  would  look  foolish  beside  me.  A 
newly-caged  wild  cat  might  outwardly  represent  my 
condition.  I  boil  to  come.  I  am  frozen.  There  comes 
a  thaw.  In  a  twinkling  I  am  aU  rosily  rippling  like  a 
summer  sea  in  the  calm  confidence  that  I  shall  go.  Then 
blight  falls.  I  find  m3'^self  stripped  like  a  gladiator 
fighting  with  a  single  sword  against  the  three  Women  of 
the  Net  and  the  Thread.  A  voice  whispers  :  *  If  you 
cut  the  net  the  thread  wiU  likewise  be  severed.'  I  swoon 
and  the  hideous  spectres  cry,  '  'Tis  done  !  '  Oh,  my  dear 
Madame  !  Are  you  one  of  the  Three  :  why  do  you  teach 
happy  men  to  love  you  ?  For  I  love  not  that  Tuck  at 
all.  He  has  taken  to  swearing  of  late.  His  letters  come 
on  me  louder  than  Blatchington  Battery  hard  by,  which 
blew  off  a  volunteer  artilleryman  to  Neptune's  bosom 
some  time  ago.  I  say  1  love  not  that  Tuck.  He  is 
profane  :  a  puffed  out  insolent  Friar — who  goes  about 
saying  that  He  is  the  better  half  of  '  WE.'  If  I  come 
I  shall  delight  in  the  snubbing  of  him.  My  Goodness  ! 
Suppose,  after  aU,  I  do  not  come  !     It  is  of  no  use  looking 


LETTERS  OF  GEORGE  MEREDITH        113 

into  that  enormous  Black  Pit.  Daylight  is  with  you, 
dear  Mrs,  Aurora  !  And  I  hope  that  in  subscribing  my- 
self  I  may  really  prove  as  responsive  to  the  ray  of  light 
received  from  you  this  morning  as  did  the  Stoney  Harpist 
of  old,  and  so  earn  the  right  to  be  your  ever  nothing  other 
than  George  Mejinon. 

PS. — I  send  my  love  to  the  household. 

IST.B. — ^Tell  me  who  has  got  most  in  the  scramble. 
And  Oh  !  Please  somebody  wish  that  I  may  get  a  fillip 
of  encouragement  on  Tuesday  morning  here,  and  shall 
perhaps  shut  my  eyes  and  let  my  heart  steer  me — which 
it  doesn't  always  do  badly,  does  it  ? — Not  falsely,  I  am 
sure.  And  if,  poor  fellow,  he  goes  wrong  and  meant  right, 
why  he  's  certain  to  lead  one  to  experience,  which,  taken 
properly,  is  wealth,  wisdom  ! — and  Hurrah  ! 


To  William  Hardman. 

Seaford,  July  14,  1863. 

I  find  I  cannot  get  the  reading  and  Foakes  both  done  ; 
and  so  collapse  like  a  demnition  bladder.  Woe  's  me, 
Tuck! 

Chapman  must  have  some  MSS.  immediately  read. 
On  the  whole,  I  do  see  that  it 's  the  right  thing  for  me  to 
work  straight  on  this  year.  I  lose  a  great  pleasure,  dear 
Tuck  !  Think  of  me.  If  you  can  spare  time,  or  are 
blessed  with  a  rainy  day,  write  to  me.  My  warmest 
salute  to  Demitroia.  The  same,  properly  clipped  and 
cooled,  to  Your  Companion.  My  love  to  you.  All  joy 
with  you,  I  had  ordered  a  travelling  suit  and  got  half 
ready  to  come  ! — Yours  lastingly,  Geokge  M. 


VOL.  I. — H 


114        LETTERS  OF  GEORGE  MEREDITH 

To  William  Hardman. 

CopsHAM,  July  19,  1863. 

.  .  .  Lucas  wants  me  to  begin  in  *  0.  a  W.'  the  end  of 
October.  I  do  not  think  I  can.  And  how  can  I  possibly 
.  .  .  and  my  last  chapter  of  Emilia  to  retouch  and  the 
proofs  .  .  .  Le  Pauvre  Lucas  !  ,  .  .  Let  me  tell  you 
that  Poco  has  this  day  gained,  after  3  astounding  efforts, 
admission  to  the  ranks  of  the  Pantagruehans.  ...  Of 
Sons,  let  me  say,  that  they  are  wonderfully  browned  by 
Seaford  sun  and  breeze  and  very  jolly.  If  I  come,  he 
will  stay  at  Copsham. 

Tuck  !     I  don't  think  :— 

'  No  more,'  the  dark  Confessor  said  ! 
'  I  know  him  :   one  of  many  thou  ! 
He,  when  thy  heart  is  won,  is  fled  : 
For  ages  he  has  done  as  now. 

'  There  is  no  hope  :  thou  canst  not  rest : 
Obedient  to  his  wanton  whim. 
Yea,  North  and  East,  and  South  and  West, 
For  ever  must  thou  follow  him. 

'  Young  Cupid  was  he  called  of  old  : 
That  Will  o'  Wisp  incorporate  : 
Tuck  is  he  named,  a  reveller  bold, 
To  follow  him  is  ay  thy  fate. 

'  He  hath  thee  in  a  golden  mesh, 
And  thee  will  have  for  evermore. 
He  is  a  Genius  of  the  Flesh — ' 
— Yet  still,  my  Tuck,  I  thee  adore. 

To  Captain  Maxse. 

COPSUAM,  ESHER. 

Dear  Maxse, — I  could  not  answer  your  letter  in  time 
on  Thursday,  and  much  as  I  wished  to  come  to  j^ou,  could 


LETTERS  OF  GEORGE  MEREDITH        115 

not,  seeing  that  I  had  to  meet  the  Son  at  Shoreditch 
station  that  evening.  He  is,  I  thank  the  Lord  !  well 
and  brisk.  Have  you  decided  anent  the  title  of  the 
house  ?  I  could  only  help  you  with  criticism.  No 
really  taking  name  struck  me.  I  go  to  Norwich  with 
Arthur  in  about  two  weeks,  and  have  multitudinous  en- 
gagements, but  will  keep  myself  pledged  to  you  for  a 
week  in  May. — Now  that  Emilia  's  off  my  mind,  alas  ! 
Poetry  presses  for  speech  !  I  fear  I  am,  unless  I  make 
great  effort,  chained  to  this  unremunerative  business 
for  a  month  or  so.  I  am  getting  material  for  the  battle- 
scenes  in  '  Emilia  in  Italy,'  But,  I  have  an  EngUsh 
novel,  of  the  real  stcry-teUing  order,  that  must  roll  off 
soon  and  precede  it.^  Minor  tales,  too,  and  also  an  Auto- 
biography. Which  to  be  at  first,  is  the  point,  and  while 
I  hesitate  comes  a  '  Wayside  piece/  a  sonnet,  a  song — • 
Ambition  says — '  Write  this  grand  Poem,'  I  smile 
idiotic  and  should  act  with  all  due  imbecOity  but  for 
Baker's  bills  and  Boy. — Know  me  ever,  your  loving 

George  Meredith. 

To  William  Hardman. 

CopsHAM,  August  1,  1S63, 

My  dear  beloved  Tuck  ! — Poco  is  off  :  started  on 
Friday  for  Havre  ;  for  Bordeaux,  for  Bayonne,  the 
Pyrenees  ;  and  so  round  to  Dauphine,  He  has  gone  ; 
but  the  hold  of  the  terril^le  fellow  is  on  me  still,  I  am 
fast  bound  by  my  word  to  meet  him  at  Grenoble,  and 
tread  the  Dauphine  Alps  with  him,  and  the  ways  that 
he  pleases  to  take  me.  I  cannot  resist  him.  He  has  a 
danmable  calm  way,  and  I  couldn't  start  till  Sons  had 
gone.  How  I  am  to  do  it  at  all,  I  camiot  imagine  :  but 
apparently  it  must  be.     The  chances  of  our  meetmg  on 

^  lihoda  Fleming.  The  Autobiography,  frequently  spoken  of,  was 
never  written. 


116  LETTERS  OF  GEORGE  MEREDITH 

the  Continent  this  year  are  small,  and  Oh  Tuck  !  I 
should  have  hked  it  so  ! 

Lucas  has  just  written  to  say  that  Tom  Trollope  follows 
Eleanor's  Vic.  in  0.  a  W.,  so  there  is  no  immediate 
pressure  for  me,  save  to  hand  my  proofs  to  friends.  .  .  . 

I  have  been  to  Goodwood  with  the  Fitzgerald  Cham- 
pagne-Loo party  :  saw  much  Hfe,  which  I  wanted : 
backed  wrong  horses  :  lost  £5.  Certain,  however,  of 
knowing  my  lesson.  Wise  grows  the  loser,  merely  happy 
the  winner.  A  great  pastime  !  The  scene  was  glorious. 
We  elbowed  dukes  :  jostled  lords  :  were  in  a  flower-garden 
of  countesses. 

Another  publisher  has  requested  me  to  read  for  him  : 
discern,  and  select.  I  never  refuse  work.  Of  this  more 
by  and  by.  For  the  present,  IMum — Oh  !  How  my 
mouth  waters,  my  heart  leaps,  at  the  thought  of  Tuck 
planted,  as  'twere,  in  the  very  eye  of  the  Gods,  the  rosey 
crowmg  British  Cock  !  Store  a  thousand  reminiscences 
for  me.  I  cannot  bear  to  think  of  leaving  England  just 
about  the  period  of  your  return,  and  missing  Dcmitroia's 
smiles  and  rapid  recitation  of  adventures  and  fun.  There 
is  something  dreadful  about  Poco.  He  is  not  as  other 
men.  He  won't  beheve  in  my  impossibilities.  Tuck  ! 
I  am  sorry  we  have  admitted  him  amongst  us,  I  am.  It 
was  your  doing.  Poco  persists.  He  is  never  satisfied 
with  my  answers,  if  I  do  not  assent.  When  once  I  do, 
or  half  do,  he  treats  me  as  a  man  of  honour,  and  I  am 
fixed.  He  has  sailed,  as  secure  of  me,  as  if  he  had  me  at 
Grenoble  already.  I  shall  send  the  S.  R.  to  Chamounix 
a  day  after  this  letter.  Sons  are  in  good  case.  I  hope 
your  darlings  are  well  :  but  of  them  j-ou  are  at  least  well 
informed.  If  you  had  not  thought  proper  to  cut  off 
communication  between  the  great  mother  and  me,  I 
might  have  told  you  particulars  of  them. 

WeU  ! — Parliament 's  up  !     I  think  ]\Iorley  will  do  my 


LETTERS  OF  GEORGE  MEREDITH         117 

Ips.  J.  You  see  the  •  Times '  of  course.  I  spare  you  paper 
news.     Old  Copsham  is  pretty  sound,  the  Beetle  soars. 

The  Beetle  soars,  the  Beetle  spins, 
The  Beetle  is  up  in  the  air,  Tuck  ; 
'Twill  crack  Robin's  crown 
As  a  stamp  for  his  sins, 
Or  make  him  defy  old  care. 

Pray,  write  and  say,  how  (the  route)  and  when  (the  week) 
you  return.     Poco  says  I  must  start  on  the  22nd. 

I  suppose  you  have  not  come  across  Jessopp  ?  He 
has  promised  to  journey  here,  and  I  hope  will  take  back 
Sons  with  him.  My  poor  darling  begins  to  see  dimly  again 
that  holidays  have  a  termination.  '  If  I  had  not  such 
a  kind  master  !  '  he  remarks.  '  I  am  very  happy  dov/n 
there.  Papa,  you  know  !  '  You  see.  Tuck,  he  has  his 
choice  of  different  kinds  of  happiness.  Blessed  is  he 
who  can  even  look  on  such  alternatives  for  a  little  human 
soul.  I  am  twice  blest,  for  that  my  friend  is  happy  as 
well  as  my  Son. 

Tuck,  I  am  going  to  bed.  If  I  dream,  sail  thou  across 
the  vision,  like  a  jolly  monkish  owl. 

My  jolly  Friar,  now  lift  thy  cowl 
And  send  me  a  laugh  like  a  revelling  owl. 

Were  I  lying  and  groaning  in  pits  of  fire, 

Thy  laughter  like  water  would  fall,  my  Friar  ! 

Good-night,  Tuck.  Good-night,  dear  Demitroia. 
Good-night  to  the  two  young  ladies  !  I  say  !  Have  they 
been  much  admired  ?  'Cause,  we  won't  have  our  English 
wild  roses  stared  at  by  '  mannikin  '  foreigners.  Tuck, 
have  you  been  a  zealous  guardian  of  those  treasures  ? 
Alas  !  Who  would  have  done  that  dutv  hke  me  ?  There 
is  a  soncj;  called  *  Poor  Robin.'     Sin^i  it.     Poco  started 


^^        -"-"^^  ■•.^-^'-        -.«v^^v**^.  '-'"-O 


118  LETTERS  OF  GEORGE  MEREDITH 

under  a  big  full  moon.  I  crj'-  for  a  blessing  upon  you  all, 
and  sleep. 

Augtist,  1,  1863. 

My  dear  Friends, — I  rc-open  to  tell  you  what  might 
have  been  the  saddest  tale  I  should  ever  have  to  tell. 

Yesterday,  W found  Arthur  out  alone  ;   put  him 

on  his  horse,  after  shortening  the  stirrups,  and  suddenly 
let  go  the  reins,  for  some  purpose  unloiown  ;  mj^  little 
darling  was  carried  off,  fell,  dangled  to  the  stirrup  and 
was  dragged  headlong  over  the  furze.  Not  killed ! 
Mercifully  spared  and  no  bones  broken  :  but  the  shaking 
has  been  tremendous.  He  lies  upstairs,  and  was  miser- 
able till  this  morning.  Had  he  been  kicked,  or  dragged 
on  a  road,  I  should  have  had  a  shattered  heap  of  all  I  loved 
given  to  my  arms.  He  was  saved  by  a  short  length,  and 
by  his  boot  being  pulled  off.  (He  had  elastic  sides  to 
them.)  Izod  says  he  is  doing  well.  He  can't  keep 
anything  on  his  stomach,  and  complains  of  his  head  : 
but  he  sleeps  soundly  and  calmly  :  breathes  peacefully. 
My  poor  lamb  ! — '  Oh  !  is  it  a  dream  ?  '  he  said,  as  I 
undressed  him  after  the  accident.  He  can  now  recount 
all  that  happened  till  he  was  dragged.  I  think  I  may 
hope  that  he  will  recover,  and  be  as  sound  as  he  was. 

Of  poor  W it  is  useless  to  speak.     He  is  sorry,  of 

course. — Don't  be  distressed,  for  you  know  I  should  not 
be  quiet  at  heart  if  all  did  not  look  very  hopeful.  I  have 
had  a  rude  blow.  I  ^vill  write  to  j^ou  in  3  days.  God 
bless  you.  George  Meredith. 

To  William  Hardman. 

CopsHAM,  EsHER,  August  5,  1863. 

My  dear  Tuck, — Sons  are  on  their  legs  again  !  The 
poor  little  fellow  is  very  weak  and  somewhat  shaky  ; 
covered  with  bruises  :    but  vitally  sound,  bones  alright. 


LETTERS  OF  GEORGE  MEREDITH         119 

Head  uninjured,  as  far  as  human  eye  can  reckon.  This 
day  he  was  allowed  to  get  up.  Yesterday  he  swallowed 
food  without  immediately  rejecting  it.  He  is  not  much 
the  worse  for  his  terrible  mishap  ;  quite  cheerfully  he 
shghtly  damns  himself  for  mounting  such  a  big  horse,  but 

excuses  W .     Poor  W has  been  in  a  great  way. 

It  is  no  comfort  to  me  to  make  another  miserable,  when 
I  am  struck  ;  and  it  is  of  no  use  to  examine  a  catastrophe 
which  I  am  sure  he  wiU  not  help  to  repeat. 

Well,  Tuck,  my  darhng  is  returned  to  me  out  of  the 

jaws  of  death.     W says  he  is  thankful  I  was  spared 

the  sight  which  will  haunt  him  till  he  dies.  He  feared 
to  look  at  Arthur,  making  sure  that  he  was  killed.  Had 
it  been  on  the  road,  or  had  the  Uttle  fellow's  boot  not  been 
of  elastic  sides,  the  worst  must  have  happened.  The 
boot  wrenched  off  is  somewhere  on  the  common  now, 
no  one  knows  where.  The  distance  Arthur  was  dragged 
was  about  50  yards,  as  far  as  I  can  make  out.  There, 
Tuck  !    We  have  put  up  our  Thank-song  to  the  Supreme. 

With  this  I  forward  the  '  Saturday.'  How  little  poor 
Ethel  knows  the  danger  her  '  brother  '  has  nm.  Break 
it  to  her  quietly.  Write  a  jolly  long  letter,  if  you  can 
manage,  saying  whether  you  return  before  the  21st  August. 
And  by  what  route,  when  you  do  return.  If  things  go 
well  with  Sons,  I  join  Poco  in  Grenoble  on  the  24th, 
leaving  England  the  22nd.     I  should  Hke  to  see  you  first. 

Jessopp  is  en  route  homeward.  He  wrote  from  Aachen, 
and  will  probably  be  at  Copsham  on  Saturday,  if  the 
news  concerning  Arthur  does  not  bring  him  before.  Say 
sweet  things  to  Demitroia,  or  let  as  many  pass  your 
douane  as  you  consider  for  her  good,  and  your  o^v^l. 
Hoping  the  young  ladies  are  not  getting  troublesome. — 
Your  loving  George  Meredith. 


120  LETTERS  OF  GEORGE  MEREDITH 

To  William  Hardman. 

August  11,  1863. 

My  dear  Tuck, — This  letter  is  a  chance  shot  sent  at 
you  :  for  I  doubt  you  will  have  left  Chamounix  before 
it  arrives.  My  darlmg  boy  is  going  on  alright.  His  head, 
though  bruised  and  blue  behind  the  ear,  is  sound,  and  his 
little  innocent  rump,  which  occasionally  twitches  him,  is 
on  the  whole  as  well  capable  of  taking  what  his  conduct 
may  earn  him  as  yours,  Tuck,  or  mine.  The  recovery 
is  wonderful.  I  thought  while  I  was  at  his  side  that 
first  night  of  the  accident  that  has  befallen  you  and 
marked  you  for  going  through  the  performance  for  your 
Robin's  comfort  in  future  years.  His  boot  (elastic  sides 
saved  him)  still  travels  at  a  swift  pace  over  the  common, 
and  will  be  re-discovered  by  a  succeeding  generation. 
Jessopp  and  his  wife  come  on  Friday.  Arthur  returns 
to  them  this  day  week.  On  the  Thursday  following  I  am 
off  to  join  awful  Poco  ;  who  has  written  to  fix  me  irre- 
vocably. He  was  at  Bordeaux,  at  claret  hard  as  he 
could.  Impassively.  Can  you  not  see  him  ?  Full  of 
this  wine  he  was  starting  for  the  P^^renean  baths.  Pretty 
well  for  a  youngster  !  I  cannot  yet  make  you  understand, 
that  among  the  sons  of  the  Great  Mother,  we  count  our 
time  from  the  hour  we  first  saw  Tuck.  He  says  :  '  Tell 
Tuck  he  is  to  come  home  by  Grenoble  ' :  be  there  (Hotel 
de  TEurope)  on  the  24tli, '  which  is  Robin's  day  of  appoint- 
ment.' Lord !  How  I  wish  you  could  do  it !  Eh  ? 
Tuck  ?  I  would  go  on  upon  this  theme,  but  I  have  the 
ridiculous  idea  that  I  shall  be  bawling  persuasion  at 
Chamounix  while  you  are  a  day  distant  across  the  Alps. 
My  letter  will  catch  you  or  be  24  hours  too  late.  Still 
if  you  get  this,  think  seriously  of  the  possibility  of  your 
coming  home  by  Grenoble,  for  I  want  to  see  you,  mightily. 
I  now  desire  to  join  Poco,  for  I  feel  as  if  I  had  been  dragged 


LETTERS  OF  GEORGE  MEREDITH        121 

by  a  horse,  and  were  blue  behind  the  ear,  with  stem- 
quarters  creaking  rather,  I  want  restoration.  Tuck 
being  absent,  I  go  to  Nature,  in  her  sublimest.  Greet 
Demitroia  and  her  chickens,  from  your  loving 

George  Meredith. 

To  William  Hardmmi. 

Piccadilly,  August  20,  1863, 
Dear  Tuck, — I  am  coming  to  you.  Shall  be  at  Hotel 
Choiseui  on  Friday  or  Saturday.  For  Heaven's  sake, 
be  there.  Make  that  we  meet.  I  bring  article  in  0.  a  W, 
America,  etc.,  and  Vie  de  Jesus  by  Renan,  one  of  the 
finest  works  of  this  generation. — Yours  in  all  love  (with 
\  to  Demitroia),  George  Meredith. 

I  start  to-night,  Newhaven  and  Dieppe, 

To  William  Hardman. 

Sept.  16,  1863, 
Tuck  ! — I  am  of  return.  I  come  to  arrive  on  Sunday, 
and  amid  such  a  press  of  work.  I  try  to  recover  my 
native  tongue.  I  must  tell  you  of  our  travels  by  and  by. 
Suffice,  that  Poco  was  at  the  station.  (It  is  one  of  his 
vanities  to  be  coolly  punctual.  He  meets  you  as  though 
he  said  *  You  see,  I  promised  to  be  sighting  the  North 
Pole  at  9  A.M.  on  the  27th  August  1891  ').  He  was  there. 
We  went  to  the  Grande  Chartreuse,  filling  all  the  vallc3^s 
on  approach  with  the  joint  names  of  Tuck  and  Demitroia. 
We  slept  there.  We  walked  away  with  9  bottles  of 
Liqueur,  and  toiled  over  mountain  passes.  Through 
Dauphine  we  walked.  We  walked  ourselves  into — 
silence.  Our  ordinary  course  was  10  hours  per  diem  : 
sometimes  it  went  to  13.  We  crossed  Mont  Genevre  into 
Italy  :  to  Turin  :  to  Lago  Maggiore,  then  over  Pied- 
montese  mountains  and  lovely  valleys  into  Switzerland 
to  Geneva  :    thence  to  Dijon,  where  Poco,  reaching  me 


122        LETTERS  OF  GEORGE  MEREDITH 

the  hand  of  friendship  and  shutting  up  the  tongue  of 
seduction,  but  parting  in  fact  very  prettily,  set  out  for 
Li^ge  :  I  for  Paris,  remaining  there  four  days  of  dehght, 
save  for  the  absence  of  one. — Strange  chapter  of  the  Book 
of  Sandars  have  we  to  narrate  :  a  few  Kttle  adventures  : 
pecuharities  of  Poco  (he  has  a  right  proper  feeling  towards 
Demitroia  ;  and  the  germs  of  reverence  for  Tuck),  etc. 
We  went  too  fast.  We  trudged  like  packmen.  Still  I 
have  much  enjoyed  the  trip  :  am  better,  fresher.  The 
weather  was  so-so  :  neither  very  bad,  nor  Tuck-like. 
To  Ethel  my  love,  and  to  Nellie.  To  D.T.  much  warmth 
of  affection.  I  heard  at  Geneva  that  the  blessed  httle 
man  goes  on  all  well. — Your  loving    George  Meredith. 


To  William  Hardman. 

CopsHAM,  Oct.  21,  1863. 

Dear  and  sweet  Tuck  ! — ^Your  aid  I  rejoice  in  :  your 
suggestions  I  for  the  most  part  follow,  bowing  the  head 
of  acquiescence  to  almost  all  your  emendations.  I 
beheve  you  too,  when  you  say  you  hke  the  work,  and  the 
thought  comforts  me.  The  night  of  the  day  you  read 
this,  we  dine  at  Poco's  papa's  table.  You  don't  mention 
having  heard  from  Chapman  1  I  suppose  they  delay 
that  they  may  consult  me  as  to  sum.  I  must  see  you 
before  I  speak  as  to  my  own  SUM.  Do  you  think  that, 
as  novels  go  now,  I  may  fix  something  huge  ?  or  content 
me  with  a  medium,  and,  snuffling  a  low  content,  say 
Such  is  the  world  ?  Or,  if  I  can't  get  my  price,  take  all 
the  risk  ?  You  say  that  '  stress  '  is  arbitrary — wrong. 
'  Her  flanks  '  seem  to  strike  one  on  the  temple  out  of  the 
printer's  page.  On  the  whole  nothing  could  be  neater 
than  your  criticism.  Maxse  is  amusing.  Objects  to 
her  conduct  in  going  with  Gambia  '  because  every  girl 
is  conscious  that  she  should  never  trust  herself  alone 


LETTERS  OF  GEORGE  MEREDITH         123 

with  a  man,'  etc.  So  :  the  sentimental  worshipper  will 
always  make  them  animals.  God  bless  you,  Tuck. — Your 
loving  Robin. 


To  Miss  Katherine  Vulliamy. 

EsHER,  Surrey,  Oct.  28,  1863. 

Dear  Miss  Vulliamy, — Thursday  is  unhappily  my 
one  day  in  the  week  when  I  am  in  harness  and  have  to 
do  Press-duty  in  London.  On  Monday,  too,  my  engage- 
ment to  go  on  a  yachting  expedition  to  the  Channel 
Islands,  holds  me  bound,  I  fear.  But  if  this  can  be  put 
off,  I  shaU  come  to  you  gladly.  I  would  much  rather 
be  in  Mickleham.  If  the  fates  drag  me  away  notwith- 
standing, I  may  hope  to  be  permitted  to  call  on  you 
when  I  return  ?  And,  since  it  pains  you  that  I  should 
take  '  long  walks  '  to  no  purpose,  I  will  also  take  the 
liberty  of  consulting  you,  d'avance  ;  though,  let  nio 
assure  you  again,  the  length  of  my  journey  is  not  to  be 
deplored.  As  to  my  walking  back  at  night  :  I  am  an 
associate  with  owls  and  nightjars,  tramps  and  tinlcers, 
who  teach  me  nature  and  talk  human  nature  to  me. 
If  I  stay  in  Mickleham,  do  I  not  lose  those  privileges  of 
a  neighbour,  who  bows  himself  out  to  his  own  bed,  and 
is  therefore  welcomed  without  formality  ?  But,  during 
my  first  visit  I  should  be  ungracious  not  to  accept 
]\Ir.  VuUiamy's  invitation  in  all  its  particulars.  I  beg  that 
you  wiU  thank  him  in  my  name. 

On  consideration,  I  thought  that  '  The  Ordeal '  could 
not  do  you  harm  :  I  can  only  trust  that  it  wOl  not  offend. 
It  deals  with  certain  problems  of  life,  and  is  therefore 
not  of  a  milky  quality.  I  am  afraid  that  it  requires  stout 
reading.  If  you  weather  it,  unshocked,  you  will  find 
my  other  works  less  trying. — I  am,  dear  Miss  Vulliamy, 
most  faithfully  yours,  George  Meredith. 


124  LETTERS  OF  GEORGE  MEREDITH 

To  Arthur  0.  Meredith. 

Autumn  1863. 

My  own  dear  little  Man  ! — We  went  on  the  water 
yesterday  and  fished ;  and  I  caught  nothing ;  but 
Mr.  Johnson  hooked  an  enormous  Jack  of  a  quarter  of  a 
pound  weight,  which  makes  him  very  proud.  I  should 
Hke  to  have  my  darling  boy  with  me.  But  you  shall 
come  here  some  day.  There  are  beautiful  meadows  by 
the  brink  of  the  stream,  on  one  side,  and  on  the  other, 
tall  thick  woods  hanging  close  over  the  water.  The 
Thames  is  very  different  from  the  river  Inn  or  the  Adige, 
or  the  Passeyr.  It  is  quite  smooth,  and  broad,  and  still ; 
green  with  reflection  of  the  trees  and  herbage,  a  capital 
place  for  j^ou  to  bathe  in. — Remember  me  to  Tom,  with 
whom  I  have  no  doubt  you  are  getting  on  well.  If  you 
want  anything,  write  me  word  of  it.  But  I  should  like 
to  hear  from  you,  in  any  case,  so  sit  down  the  day  that 
you  receive  this,  and  write  me  a  few  hues,  that  I  may 
hear  from  my  dear  little  man  the  best  news  that  can  come 
to  me — that  he  is  quite  weU  and  quite  happy. — ^Your 
lovmgPapa,  George  Meredith. 

To  the  Rev.  Augustus  Jessopp. 

EsHER,  Autumn  1863. 

My  dear  Jessopp, — You  say  that  you  are  anxious 
about  my  Uttle  man.  You  take  the  wind  out  of  aU  my 
sails.  Pardon  me,  but  I  shall  have  no  peace  till  I  hear 
whether  I  have  dwelt  on  the  word  too  strongly.  If  you 
are  onlv  anxious  as  to  his  mental  briskness,  I  am  not 
alarmed  ;  and  I  know  also  that  he  *  potters  '  and  plays 
after  his  own  fashion  and  is  not  a  boisterous  fellow.  But 
I  am  always  open  to  fear  for  his  physical  health.  His 
circulation  is  not  rapid,  his  stomach  is  weak.     He  requires 


LETTERS  OF  GEORGE  MEREDITH        125 

to  be  watched.  And  the  medicines  of  the  old  system  do 
not  suit  him.  Even  for  a  trifling  ilhiess,  I  wish  him  to 
have  the  attendance  of  a  homoeopathic  physician. — I 
should  imagine  that,  if  you  see  languor,  it  arises  from 
indigestion  —  constitutional  weakness  of  digestion.  I 
should  like  him  to  have  a  course  of  cod-hver  oil.  If 
Mrs.  Jessopp  thinks  good,  I  will  send  him  some  down 
from  Savory  &  Moore's.  And  as  a  drink  at  dinner,  some 
light  claret  mixed  with  Brighton  Seltzer  Water,  might 
inspirit  him.  Would  you  allow  of  this  ?  Any  other 
wine,  or  beer,  he  must  not  take.  I  don't  want  to  give 
trouble,  but  my  heart  broods  over  him,  and  I  am  un- 
manned at  a  breath  of  doubt  concerning  him. — I  told 
you  that  his  powers  of  acquisition  would  not  be  marked. 
But  you  will  find  bj^  and  by  that  he  has  sucked  in  much 
and  made  use  of  it  in  his  own  way.  He  will  never  be  a 
gladiator  :  but  he  may  be  a  thinker  :  I  expect  him  to 
be  a  man  of  sense.  If  only — and  here  my  sails  flap 
the  mast  miserably.  I  would  come  down  at  once  but 
my  fresh  work  detains  me.  I  have  my  hands  fuU. 
Mrs.  Jessopp  will  be  moved  to  give  me  the  state  of  the 
case.  Will  you  tell  her  that  a  hamper  will  come  for 
Arthur  this  week,  containing  among  things  more  precious 
to  him,  the  necessaries  she  wrote  for.  I  had  much  to 
discourse  on  to  you. 

This,  doubtless  very  sill3%  perturbation  of  the  parental 
mind,  chases  the  gabble  from  my  tongue.  God  bless 
you.  I  have  perhaps  scarcely  recovered  from  the  shock 
of  the  accident  during  i^rthur's  holidays.  The  tone  of 
a  word  relating  to  him  makes  me  melancholy.  For  my- 
self it  takes  much  to  make  me  hang  out  that  j'ellow  flag 
for  an  hour  even. — ^Your  loving        George  Meredith. 


126        LETTERS  OF  GEORGE  MEREDITH 

To  William  Hardman. 

EsHER,  Surrey,  Nov.  3,  1863. 

My  dear  Tuck, — I  am  under  extraordinary  press  of 
work  and  must  also  rewrite  2  '  frolic  '  chapters  :  but  I 
believe  I  shall  see  you  on  Thursday  at  least,  even  if  you 
go  into  the  heart  of  the  gale,  instead  of  dancing  diabolus 
on  vexed  waters  :  for  time  enough  to  squeeze  your  hand. 
If  the  wind  rages  I  shall  y^i  the  more  wish  myself  by  your 
side.  I  am  whelmed  with  MSS.  ;  full  of  envy  of  you  free 
men,  dejected  as  regards  this  novel,  full  of  confidence  for 
the  future. — Ever  your  loving  George  M. 


To  Arthur  0.  Meredith. 

CopsHAM  Cottage, 
EsHER,  Nov.  12,  1863. 

My  dear  little  Man  ! — Island  Pond  is  frozen  over, 
and  all  the  common  looks  as  you  saw  it  that  Christmas 
morning  when  we  walked  over  to  Oatlands.  Sandars  is 
seen  sometimes,  with  brown  gaiters  and  a  green  tunic. 
His  legs  continue  to  grow,  but  his  body  does  not.  AU 
your  playthings,  your  theatre,  books,  etc.,  are  put  away, 
but  you  can  get  at  them  easily  when  you  return.  You 
can  imagine  how  glad  I  shall  be  to  hear  jowv  voice  again 
in  this  neighbourhood  ;  and  if  I  were  not  working  very 
hard,  I  should  find  the  place  too  dull  to  live  in,  without 
you.  Shall  I  hear  at  Christmas,  that  you  have  been 
learning,  and  have  got  a  little  more  friendly  with  your 
Latin  Grammar  ?  Mind  you  don't  waste  your  time.  If 
you  do  your  best,  I  shall  bo  satisfied.  Tell  me  the  names 
of  the  boys  you  play  with  most,  and  what  fellows  you 
think  are  the  best.  I  suppose  you  see  Mr.  Sandys.  Have 
you  been  to  Mrs.  Clabburns  ?  Let  me  be  sure  that  I  shall 
have  a  letter  from  you  every  week.  AVhen  you  have 
written  to  Captain  Maxso,  you  must  write  to  Mrs.  Edward 


LETTERS  OF  GEORGE  MEREDITH        127 

Chapman,  *  Camden  Park,  Tunbridge  Wells/  The  name 
of  her  house  is  '  Hollyshaw.'  God  bless  my  dear  little 
man,  prays  his  loving  Papa,  George  Meredith. 


To  William  Hardman. 

London,  Nov.  13,  1863. 

Dearest  Tuck,  my  bonny  wild  duck  ;  whom  I  might 
have  addressed  to  *  off  Flushing,'  but  for  the  fact  that 
in  17  hours  and  |  you  come  homeward  rushing  (turning  a 
tail  of  marvellous  breadth,  I  believe  it  still  darkens  the 
Dutchmen).  I  have  written  to  Maxse  and  now  let  me 
ax  ye,  if  Chapman  &  Hall  are  such  men  ;  with  wonderful 
powers  must  your  Robin  possessed  be,  able  to  run  with 
them  fairly.  'Tis  Frederick's  fault,  that  no  answer  you 
had  had  ;  as  letters  he  writes  but  rarely.  Old  Edward 
tells  me  this,  and  remarks,  you  shall  quickly  a  cheque 
get,  commensurate.  As  for  the  conduct  of  the  '  Firm  ' 
he  admits  with  a  shrug  that  I  properly  censure  it.  The 
thing  would  be  settled  at  once,  but  Fred  is  taking  a  httle 
holiday  (the  sixth  in  6  weeks) — Adieu. 

When  we  meet  next  time  will  be  my  jolly  day. 

Signed  :  RoBm. 

To  Mrs.  Janet  Ross, 

EsHER,  Dec.  1,  1863. 

My  dearest  Janet, — I  have  put  back  my  letter,  think- 
ing I  might  get  some  book  to  offer  you.  You  know  that 
I  recommended  you  for  Renan's  Vie  de  Jesus.  Chapman 
has  the  offer  of  it,  and  would  have  done  it,  with  your 
name  mixed  up  with  it.  But  our  worthy  and  most  dis- 
creet Bart  declined  to  have  your  name  mixed  up  with  it. 
As  things  go,  perhaps  he  was  right.  So  the  book  went 
to  Triibner, — ^You  remember  Adams,  whom  your  mother 
sent  to  the  altar  first  and  subsequently  to  me  ?  He  is 
now  flourishing,  if  the  being  able  to  buy  a  business  comes 


128        LETTERS  OF  GEORGE  MEREDITH 

under  that  term.  He  consulted  me  after  taking  that 
step,  or  I  think  he  would  not  have  purchased  Saunders 
and  Otley's.  But  so  it  is.  He  is  now  Saunders  &  0. 
At  his  earnest  request  I  advise  him.  Of  course  this  is 
a  secret.  The  position  will  put  books  for  translation 
in  my  way,  now  and  then.  I  had  one  the  other  day,  but 
the  translator's  name  was  requisite.  '  Une  bouchee  de 
pain.'  Mrs.  Gaily  does  it.  Murray  called  at  Jeff's  to 
get  the  cop3^right  two  daj^s  after  Adams  had  secured  it. 

Now  of  mj^self  a  little.  Can  I  ever  forget  my  dearest 
and  best  woman-friend  ?  And  I  must  be  cold  of  heart 
not  to  be  touched  by  your  faithfulness  to  your  friendships. 
I,  who  let  grief  eat  into  me  and  never  speak  of  it  (partly 
because  I  despise  the  sympathy  of  fools  and  will  not 
trouble  my  friends),  am  thereby  rendered  rather  weak  of 
expression  at  times.  The  battle  is  tough  when  one  fights 
it  all  alone.  And  it  is  only  at  times  that  I  awake  from 
hving  in  a  darker  world.  But  I  am  getting  better,  both 
in  health  and  spirit.  It  is  my  punishment  that  I  have 
to  tell  you  what  I  never  prove,  that  I  love  you  and  shall 
do  so  constantly.  For  I  hold  nothing  dearer  than  your 
esteem,  my  dear !  Writing  letters  seems  a  poor  way  of 
showing  it,  and  yet  even  that  I  don't  do  !  But  you  never 
vary.  If  you  were  like  me,  our  lights  would  soon  pass 
out  of  sight  of  one  another,  leaving  me  many  regrets, 
certainly,  but  I  acknowledge  you  to  be  the  fixed  star  of 
this  union,  as  you  will  be  one  of  mine  forever.  So, 
pardon  this  sentimentalism.  As  I  said,  it 's  my  punish- 
ment to  have  to  put  my  case  in  such  a  tone. — I  fancy, 
too,  that  your  instinct  believes  me  true  to  the  memory  of 
our  old  kindness,  careless  of  it  though  I  appear  ? 

The  noble  Bart  gave  me  capital  accounts  of  you  and 
my  lost  Lady.  The  accident  occurred  to  Arthur  while 
she  was  at  Poole.  When  he  went  to  Norwich,  I  started 
at  once  for  Italy  to  get  fresh  scenery  and  extraneous 


LETTERS  OF  GEORGE  MEREDITH        129 

excitement.  I  hoped  to  see  her  on  my  return :  but  I  heard 
that  she  was  not  alone,  and  in  the  end  as  I  was  making 
up  my  mind  to  write  for  an  audience,  the  news  came  that 
she  had  just  reached  Calais.  I  smote  my  undecided  head. 
I  am  vexed  beyond  measure  at  having  missed  her.  The 
news  of  her  is  so  good  that  it  tastes  like  fresh  hfe  to  me. 
On  this  head,  please  give  me  particulars.  And  if  she  could 
be  persuaded  to  write,  how  glad  I  should  be  ! 

I  am  here  at  Copsham  still.  Next  year  I  shall  have 
the  place  to  myself,  to  buy  or  lease.  I  hope  to  be  able 
to  buy  it,  and  then  it  may  be  made  agreeable  for  friends. 
At  present  none  but  men  can  come.  Some  are  usually 
here  from  Saturday  to  Monday.  Of  the  Esherians  I  see 
next  to  nothing. — By  the  way,  Izod  behaved  very  nicely 
in  his  attendance  on  Arthur — just  as  you  said  would  be 
the  case.  He  was  cheerful  from  the  first.  You  can 
conceive  my  condition.  From  six  in  the  evening  to  half- 
past  four  in  the  morning  my  darling  was  insensible,  only 
saying,  once  :  '  Oh  !  is  it  a  dream  !  '  and  staring  wildly. 
He  had  on  elastic  boots,  and  this  fact  saved  him.  If  the 
boot  had  not  come  off,  he  would  have  been  dragged  till — I 
have  looked  over  into  the  pit.    I  don't  think  I  misbehaved 

myself  and  I  certainly  did  not  reproach  poor  W ,  of 

whose  folly  we  need  not  speak,  seeing  that  he  won't  renew 
it.  There  is  every  reason  to  feel  sure  that  Arthur  has 
taken  no  damage  whatever,  nor,  I  think,  is  his  pluck  at 
all  lessened. 

Your  Holbeins  !  I  went  to  get  them  done,  and  was 
told  that  the  Kensington  Museum  had  been  remonstrated 
with  by  photographers  generally,  and  had  abandoned 
the  work.  I  tried  to  get  Dante  Rossetti  to  give  me  his. 
I  have  thought  of  numerous  things  to  supplant  them, 
but  jewels  scorn  the  only  resource,  though  I  can't  bear  to 
see  them  either  on  arm,  neck,  or  fingers.  You  will  receive 
something  or  other  (overlooking  my  bad  taste)  with  my 

VOL,  I. — I 


130        LETTERS  OF  GEORGE  MEREDITH 

novel  in  January.  It  is  called  *  Emilia  in  England ' 
antiposed  to  '  Emilia  in  Italy/  which  is  to  foUow — both 
in  3  vols.  The  first  is  a  contrast  between  a  girl  of  sim- 
plicity and  passion  and  our  Enghsh  sentimental,  sociaUy- 
aspiring  damsels.  The  second  (in  Italy)  is  vivid  narrative 
(or  should  be).  I  hope  you  will  like  it : — I  can't  guess 
whether  you  wiU.  You  saw,  I  suppose,  that  the  Saturday 
Review  has  gently  whipped  me  for  *  Modern  Love.'  I 
am  not  the  worse.  And  doubtless  the  writer  meant  well. 
I  regret  to  say  that  I  can't  give  up  writing  poetry,  which 
keeps  your  poet  poor. 

You  were  charmed  with  Kinglake's  book  ?  In  style  it 
beats  anjrthing  going,  but  m  judgment  it  is  bad,  and  it 
cannot  take  place  as  a  piece  of  artistic  history.  Here  is 
Maxse  writing  hard  against  it,  he  being  a  reverent  admirer 
of  Lord  Raglan  and  a  just  man.  Kinglake's  treatment  of 
the  French  is  simply  mean. — ^And  mean  too  is  the  position 
England  assumes  as  critic  everywhere — as  actor  nowhere, 
if  it  can  be  helped.  We  are  certainly  in  a  mess  about  this 
Congress,  and  the  French  aUiance  is  a  matter  of  the  past. 

I  read  the  'Times '  Alexandrian  correspondent  diligently 
to  catch  the  friend's  hand  behind  the  official  pen.^ 

How  good  of  you  to  look  forward  to  my  little  man's 
future  !  Who  knows  ?  He  might  be  found  fit  to  be  a 
merchant,  and  what  offer  could  be  better  than  yours  ? 
But  I  must  first  get  at  his  inclinations  and  try  his  strength. 

Now,  my  dearest  good  Janet,  adieu  for  a  space — tiU 
I  repeat  it.  Write  to  me.  Give  my  warm  regards  to 
your  husband,  and  know  me  ever,  your  loving 

George  Meredith. 

Arthur  comes  home  on  the  23rd.  He  will  write  to 
you  before  the  month  closes. 

^  Mrs.  RosB  was  now  acting  as  a  correspondent  of  the  Times  in 
Egypt. 


LETTERS  OF  GEORGE  MEREDITH         131 

To  William  Hardman. 

Dec.  1,  1863. 

Dearest  lovely  Tctck, — I  dine  with  Maxse  at  the 
'  Garrick  '  to-morrow,  and  as  I  want  to  converse  with 
you  on  the  matter  of  your  objections  to  points  in  '  Emiha/ 
I  should  hke  to  know  whether  you  can  give  me  a  bed, 
'cause  if  you  can  you  will  :  which  is  established  in  my 
mind,  but  if  you  can  will  you  send  a  line  to  Chapman  & 
Hall's,  or  better  to  Maxse,  at  the  '  Garrick,'  containing 
the  wished  word  for  me.  Yes,  say  to  Maxse  at  the 
Garrick  (with  my  initials  in  the  corner  of  the  address), 
and  then  I  '11  come  to  talk  and  fight  him  :  but  with  full 
acknowledgement  of  the  soundness  of  some  of  his  criticism 
and  value  of  his  advice.  I  am  glad  that  Tuck  hkes  it 
on  the  whole.  It 's  impossible  to  tell  him  what  difficulty 
I  get  myself  into  by  altering  my  original  conception  of 
the  scheme. — Your  own  Robin. 

To  Mrs.  Jessopp. 

ESHER,  Dec.  1863. 

My  dear  Mrs.  Jessopp, — The  Son  blooms  in  the  air 
of  home.  How  could  I  have  stopped  away  from  my 
living  heart  so  long  ?  But  I  have  him  and  won't  moan 
that  it 's  only  for  six  weeks.  More  than  ever  do  I  thank 
the  blessed  chance  that  inspired  you  to  make  yourselves 
known  to  me  and  render  me  the  most  deeply  indebted 
of  men.  For,  I  see  not  only  that  every  care  is  taken  of 
my  darling  under  your  roof,  but  that  happiness  is  his 
vital  air  there.  He  breathes  it.  Shall  he  not  be  robust 
in  spirit  ?     At  least  I  have  faith  in  the  experiment. 

Now,  I  have  an  engagement  to  go  to  my  friend  Maxse 
with  Arthur  next  month — a  visit  long  dela3-ed  by  me 
and  not  to  be  put  off.  But,  you  must  come  to  me  this 
time  .  .  .  will  you  not  ?     I  should  be  grieved  to  miss 


132  LETTERS  OF  GEORGE  MEREDITH 

you  !  I  wish  to  know  wlieu  you  are  to  be  in  London 
.  .  .  the  date  !  And  I  will  conform  to  it.  Please  reply  ; 
so  that  I  may  write  to  mj''  now  impatient  sea-captain, 
who  will  not  believe  that  I  mean  to  be  with  him  at  all. 
And  tell  me  of  Gordon,  and  of  vour  Christmas, 

Thackeray's  death  startled  and  grieved  me.  And  I, 
who  think  I  should  be  capable  of  eyeing  the  pitch-black 
King  if  he  knocked  for  me  in  the  night ! — Alas  for  those 
who  do  not  throw  the  beetle  ! — Of  Emiha  I  cannot  speak. 
She  grieves  me.  I  have  never  so  cut  about  a  created 
thing.  There 's  good  work  in  her :  but  the  work  ? 
That  note  of  interrogation  is  in  person. — ^Your  faithful 

George  Meredith. 


To  the.  Rev.  Augustus  Jessopp. 

EsHER,  Jan.  1864. 

My  dear  Jessopp, — Shall  j-ou  be  in  To-\vn  and  visible 
to  me,  on  Wednesday,  on  Thursday,  on  Friday  week  ? 

Do,  write  and  tell  me  you  are  well  :  for,  all  my  friends 
are  croaking  ;  fog  is  about :  blue  mould  sits  on  the  fair 
aspect  of  Companionship,  and  I  want  to  know  that  some- 
body 's  all  right.  My  son  is  all  right.  I  am  not  all 
right.  Emilia  Belloni  is  not  all  right.  She  has  worried 
me  beyond  measure,  and  couldn't  expect  to  be  all  right. 
She  will  be,  when  she  's  in  Itah'.  As  to  character,  I 
think  you  will  have  no  doubt  of  her  flesh  and  blood. 
How  you  will  like  the  soul  of  the  damsel,  I  can't  guess. 
Out  in  February. 

Are  you  rejoicing  at  an  Heir  to  England's  Thi'one  ? 
Have  you  not  admired  the  loyal  leaders  of  Jeames  de  la 
Pluche  in  the  '  Times '  ? — My  Prms  !  It  is  of  course  matter 
for  quiet  hearty  congratulation,  but  I  confess  that  this 
excited  flunkeyism  of  our  Press  makes  one  even  look  at 
the  other  extreme  and  sec  a  manliness  in  the  American. 


LETTERS  OF  GEORGE  MEREDITH        133 

Your  words  on  Norwich  School  Prize-Day  appeared  in 
I.  J.i 

Arthur  sends  his  love  to  Mrs.  Jessopp,  and  I  ask  you, 
what  privileges  are  these  of  his  years  that  enable  him 
to  send  that  pretty  wheedling  word,  while  I  have  to  con- 
tent myself  with  '  regards  '  !  I  am  almost  tempted  to 
say  with  exclamatory,  dramatic,  cockney  bards,  '  for- 
sooth," after  it.  And  I  mean  so  much  more,  don't  you 
see  !  But  there  are  things  one  endures  with  one's  accep- 
tance into  practical  life — collars  likewise.  When  collars 
and  tail-coats  are  aboHshed, — well !  I  shouldn't  hke 
to  be  photographed  then.  However,  till  I  wear  that 
broad  grin,  I  am  your  loving  George  M. 


To  William  Hardman. 

CoPSHAM,  Jan.  12,  1864. 

My  bones,  dear  Tuck,  are  more  eloquent  to  me  of 
the  ball  on  Friday  night  than  I  shall  be  to  you.  Old 
Parsimony  must  be  right.  '  You  changed  thick  breeches 
for  thin,  thick  socks  and  boots  for  thin  capering  patents, 
and  out  in  that  ther'  frost,  and  then  wonders  you  feels 

akins  in  your  bones  and  calls  it  indigestion  and  I 's 

wine  .  .  .'  Yesterday  I  walked  to  Mickleham  with 
Sons,  taking  him  on  my  back  returning,  and  then  2  miles 
in  a  fly,  so  that  he  wasn't  tired.  It  didn't  cure  me. 
I  shiver  and  feel  like  an  ancient  frame.  The  Ball  ?  I 
try  to  remove  the  mists  of  jaundice,  but  I  cannot  get  a 
view  of  it  without  some  yellow.  It  was  frightful  to  me. 
The  young  women  (saving  the  Clarke  girls)  were  hideous, 
the  old  ones  talked  of  the  weather  and  shivered,  as  I  do 
now  at  the  recollection  of  my  suffering. 

My  dear  Tuck,  if  you  want  a  sight  of  the  room,  open 
your  piano  hd  ;   strike  on  the  notc^s  and  see  the  little 

^  Ipswich  Journal. 


134  LETTERS  OF  GEORGE  MEREDITH 

bobbing  heads  in  the  interior.  They  bob  to  some  pur- 
pose, but  oh  !  this  sight !  Esher's  young  men  were  hardly 
better  than  its  females — I  use  the  word  in  all  its  offensive- 
ness.  At  12  midnight  supper.  Champagne  Cup  (small 
beer,  sweetened,  with  a  fizz)  to  wash  down  incarnate 
dyspepsia  in  a  room  |  frost  |  fire.  All  partook  of  Cham- 
pagne-cup. I  have  the  satisfaction  of  knowing  that  I 
pressed  it  upon  2  ;  filling  my  own  glass  at  the  same  time, 
and  speeding  it  down  the  table  with  admirable  dexterity. 
I  left  at  2  A.M.     I  am  told  that  some  young  men,  called 

upon  by  I to  cheer  the  ladies,  the  hostesses  of  the 

evening,  did  so  until  they  were  drunk.     I  pardon  their 

frail  stomachs.     W ,  after  a  bottle  of  Moselle,  gave 

a  sniff  and  lit  a  cigar,  and  refused  to  go.  But  that 
Robin  always  keeps  his  appointments,  he  would  have 
followed  the  captain's  example.  I  walked  to  Esher  and 
walked  home,  and  precious  co-wo-wo-wold  it  was.  Tuck. 
Yes,  a  short  article  on  Wn.  Australia  would  help  me.  I 
do  not  think  I  can  come  to  j^ou  on  Thursday.  On  Friday 
to  Maxse. 

My  Jeames's  expressions  of  joy  in  the  '  Times '  on  the 
Royal  Baby  have  been  magnificent,  and  should  procure 
for  the  family  la  Pluche,  a  patent  of  nobility.  Love  to 
that  changeful  creature  Domitroia.  I  send  you  proofs 
of  '  Emilia.'  Forward  them  to  Johnson,  Bullion  Office, 
Bank. — ^Your  loving  Robin. 


To  Captain  Maxse.  ^  ,_-. 

^  Esher,  1864. 

My  dear  Maxse, — I  had  thought  of  '  Hamble  Ridge,' 
and  also  of  '  Hamble  Mount,'  which  latter,  though  more 
common,  is  perhaps  preferable.  Either  one  would  do 
very  weU.  Is  there  any  characteristic  of  the  river  to  give 
it  christening  ?  as  a  reach,  a  bluff — '  Hamble  Reach  ' 
would  not  sound  iU.     We  should  sit  together  and  give  it 


LETTERS  OF  GEORGE  MEREDITH         135 

a  title  over  a  cup  of  claret.  Any  trees  to  distinguish  it  ? 
— '  Hamble  Willows,'  '  Hamble  Elms,'  etc.— The  site 
of  the  House  impresses  me  favourably.  I  must  have  for 
my  daily  meal  a  good  plateful  of  sky  ;  and  the  sun  must 
drop  into  it,  or  I  'm  not  satisfied.  I  feed  on  him  and 
the  field  he  traverses.  This,  apparently,  you  will  get. — 
How  is  health  with  you  ?  I  progress  excellentl5^  but 
only  to  get  into  a  higher  circle  of  desires  and  hopes, 
despairs  and  dreams.  And  if  a  fair  face  touches  me, 
what  is  there  for  me  but  to  moan  at  my  loss  of  philo- 
sophy ?  Can  I  go  to  her  and  say,  '  Love  me  '  ?  She 
sucks  my  comfort  from  my  life,  and  that 's  all.  Or,  not 
all !  It 's  experience  ! — for  this  were  we  born.  My 
philosophy  distils  again  to  just  that  bitter  drop. — 
'  Emilia  '  in  a  fortnight  positively.  Poor  little  woman  ! 
What  will  the  British  P.  say  to  a  Pinis  that  holds  aloft 
no  nuptial  torch  ?  All  she  does,  at  the  conclusion,  is 
to  leave  England.  Perhaps  you,  too,  wiU  be  disappointed. 
I  trust  not. 

Say  to  Mrs.  Maxse  that  I  shall  be  very  anxious  to  be, 
if  not  the  first,  one  of  the  first  of  her  guests  at  Hamble 
the,  as  yet,  unnamed.  And  we  will  go  and  hear  the 
nightingales,  as  you  and  I  did,  my  dear  fellow,  when 
they  chuckled  a  love-snatch  and  your  heart  had  not 
found  a  home.  Note  '  Frost  on  the  May -night '  close 
at  the  end  of  '  Emilia.' — ^You  wiU  receive  your  copy  the 
day  she  appears.  Shall  you  haply  review  the  production  ? 
It 's  my  undertaking — the  risk  mine  and  the  uncounted 
profits.  I  told  Chapman  I  should  want  a  good  sum,  and 
did  not  object  to  publish  the  book  myself.  He  thought 
the  closing  alternative  best,  and  it  may  be  for  me.  —What 
are  you  reading  ?  What  meditating  ?  The  Fates  are 
stirring  with  a  mighty  spoon  at  this  hour. — May  Heaven 
bless  you  and  yours  through  it  all  and  soon  give  me  sight 
of  you  ! — Your  loving  Geohge  M. 


136  LETTERS  OF  GEORGE  MEREDITH 

To  William  Hardman. 

Jan.  21,  1864. 

Sweet  Tuck, — ^I  bring  Sons  to  go  to  Rossetti  to  have 
his  face  taken.  If  I  can  I  will  get  away  and  sleep  at 
Gordon  Square.  Haply  he  mayn't  be  at  home,  I  shall 
not  be  later  than  |  past  ten. — Your  lovmg  and  grateful 

Robin. 

Love  to  the  fickle  one. 


To  the  Rev.  Augustus  Jessopp. 

ESHER. 

My  dear  Jessopp, — As  to  the  book  !  One  of  Chapman 
&  Hall's  men  put  a  paper  on  it,  \vith  your  name,  and 
returned  it.  He  has  written  to  Mudie  to  that  effect ;  but 
stupidly  delayed  doing  so.  The  matter  must  be  set  right 
in  a  few  days,  and  I  am  sorry  exceedingly  that  your 
kindness  should  have  given  you  such  bother. — I  met 
Clabbum  and  Sandys  the  other  night  at  Arthur  Lewis's. 
Sandys  has  some  fine  conceptions  for  pictures.  Alto- 
gether, he  is  one  of  the  most  remarkable  of  the  '  brushes  ' 
of  our  day,  with  the  quaintest  stolid  Briton  way  of  looking 
at  general  things.  But  artists  see  their  square  of  canvas 
and  little  more — add  the  gilt  frame.  Sandys  has  a 
romantic  turn  that  lets  me  feed  on  him. — What  you  say 
of  Arthur  requiring  to  make  blood  to  be  lively  in  body 
and  mind,  is  my  view  and  shows  me  that  we  strike  one 
note.  Let  men  make  good  blood,  I  constantly  cry. 
I  hold  that  to  be  rightly  materialist — to  understand  and 
take  nature  as  she  is — is  to  get  on  the  true  divine  highroad. 
That  we  should  attain  to  a  healthy  humanity,  is  surely 
the  most  pleasing  thing  in  God's  sight.  Now,  of  another 
matter.  The  book  is  to  be  pubhshcd  at  my  risk  and  for 
my  profit.  It  wiU  be  out  in  a  fortnight.  In  a  month 
from  that  date  I  can  draw  something.  Meantime,  if  any 
pressure  should  bo  perchance  on  you,  you,  my  friend, 


LETTERS  OF  GEORGE  MEREDITH         137 

will  let  me  know,  and  I  will  get  what  is  wanted  and  for- 
ward it.  Nothing  but  my  carelessness  puts  me  behind 
in  my  money  accounts.  I  make,  apart  from  novels, 
enough  for  Arthur  and  myself.  It  comes  and  goes.  If 
this  novel  does  not  pay  well,  I  shall  retrench  rigidly,  book 
my  bills,  deny  friends,  have  no  purse,  and  look  above  the 
head  of  the  crossing-sweeper.  I  know  that  you  under- 
stand how  the  delay  has  been  superinduced.  It  will 
hardly  occur  again.  I  have  trusted  to  your  good  heart 
in  full  faith,  as  doubtless  you  feel.  That  I  should  at  all 
inconvenience  you  is  not  necessary'-,  and  you  will  always 
speak  openly  on  that  head — as  I  am  now  acting — ^will 
you  not  ?  The  novel  has  good  points,  and  some  of  my 
worst  ones.  It  has  no  plot  albeit  a  current  series  of 
events  :  but  being  based  on  character  and  continuous 
development,  it  is  not  unlikely  to  miss  a  strildng  success. 
But,  hail  to  the  Beetle  !  verily  I  have  made  new  blood 
by  its  aid,  of  the  pure  crimson,  from  which  great  Poesies 
and  stem  conception  should  flow  !  I  am  growing  fuller 
of  hope  and  thirst  for  work.  I  begin  to  believe  again  that 
I  may  do  '  something.'  Judge  me  not  by  this  present  per- 
formance ! — I  think  I  may  say  that  I  vnW  be  with  you. 
Heaven  consenting,  the  middle  of  this  month.  Is  Arthur 
correct  when  he  talks  of  holidays  commencing  the  23rd 
of  March  ? — We  shall  have  much  to  tallr  over  ;  and,  by 
the  way,  Alys  has  not  arrived,  0  man  whose  energy  did 
win  the  admiration  of  Sandys  and  myself  jointly  !  I 
want  to  see  it ;  I  want  to  see  you.  Give  Mrs.  Jessopp 
my  warmest  greeting.  My  heart  is  with  her  who  watches 
over  my  boy. 


To  William  Hardman. 

EsHER,  Feb.  24,  1SG4. 

My  dear  Tuck, — I  have  been  away  from  the  Cot.     I 
am  direly  disturbed  at  my  enforced  absence  from  you 


138  LETTERS  OF  GEORGE  ]\IEREBITH 

and  Demitroia  and — the  G.  M.  !  Take  G.  M.  from  the 
G.  M.  what  remains  ?  Nothing.  I  feel  as  nothing. 
There  is  an  extraordinary  fataUty  about  Bullion.  He 
crosses  our  star,  Tuck.  Not  satisfied  with  robbing  you  of 
me,  he  must  now  take  Morison. 

What  a  Thursday  evening  I  shall  pass  in  strong  hght  of 
Fancy's  contrast.  .  .  .  All  pleasure  attend  j^ou  !  Success 
wait  on  you  !  Smooth  flow  the  Sauces  !  May  the  fillets 
tender  be  !  Nor  aught  to  ruffle  the  Olympian  brows  of 
Tuck,  the  Host. — Being  the  prayer  of  his  loving 

RoBEsr. 
To  William  Hardman. 

March  \,  1864. 

My  dearest  Tuck, — Your  invitation  is  a  mockery. 
You  have  combined  with  Circumstance  to  keep  me  from 
a  sight  of  the  Great  M,  On  Wednesday  to  Morison  to 
the  '  Wandering  Minstrels  '  at  Lord  Edward  Fitzgerald's 
after  dining  with  Arthur  Lewis  :  on  Friday  to  a  dinner 
here  :  on  Saturday  Copsham  reception.  Sunday,  guests. 
Monday,  Mickleham  :  and  so  on.  Damn  you.  Tuck  ! 
What  do  you  mean  by  it  ?  And,  Oh  Lord  !  I  must  re- 
trench, for  I  am  going  to  publish  on  my  own  account. 
I  give  no  more  to  crossing-sweepers,  and  drink  small  beer, 
if  Emilia  fail  to  hit  her  mark.  Give  my  respectful  com- 
pliments to  your  Mama,  and  I  hope  your  tum-tum  is 
stronger,  old  Boy  ?  I  still  improve.  Since  I  can't  see 
you,  write  like  a  dear  fellow,  and  tell  me  of  yourself, 
Demitroia  and  the  chicks. — Arthur  flourishes. — ^Your 
loving  G.  M. 

To  Mrs.  Jessopp. 

March  1864, 

My  dear  Mrs.  Jessopp, — May  I  beg  you  to  give  my 
little  man,  on  my  behalf,  five  shillings  ?  He  writes  for 
half-a-crown,  but  we  double  it. 


LETTERS  OF  GEORGE  MEREDITH         139 

I  have  been  disturbed  of  late  at  not  hearing  from  him. 
He  now  says,  that  he  has  written.  The  letter  did  not 
arrive.  Would  it  be  as  well  to  question  him  on  the  point, 
and  make  inquiries  of  the  housekeeper  ? 

I  am  so  busy  and  bothered  with  work  (consequently 
doing  it  ill  and wrathful  and  utterly  un- 
worthy to  hold  pen  to  you)  that  I  break  ofiE  without  a 
reply  to  your  remembered  last  letter.  Though,  with 
regard  to  the  Sunday  arrangements  at  the  School.  Now, 
let  me  assure  you,  0  fair  advocate,  that  I  think  you  make 
wonderful  improvements  on  a  state  of  things  rather  hurt- 
ful to  Nature  in  her  untamed  years.  Hurtful  to  her,  and 
therefore  she  has  her  revenge  :  a  not  unhoty  thing  when 
we  see  it  to  be  simply  the  action  of  violated  laws.  Young 
blood  will  not  sit  so  frequently,  and  so  long,  on  the  seventh 
day,  without  a  desire  to  stir,  which  becomes  in  the  brain 
a  remonstrance. 

I  may  say  of  my  dear  little  fellow  that  he  was  not  at  all 
complaining  when  he  spoke  to  me  :  but  casually  stated 
a  fact  common  to  boys.  Another,  too,  it  seems,  thinks 
even  the  seventh  day  in  Norwich  a  hard  day  :  '  as  hard 
or  harder  than  any  one  of  the  other  six.' — The  truth  is, 
that  our  Puritanism  is  beginning  to  weary  even  the  English 
world,  and  much  as  you  are  disposed  to  lighten  the  claims 
of  worship  to  poor  httle  fellows,  your  being  in  East  Anglia 
must  of  a  necessity  keep  you  behind  us. 

Do  forgive  me  for  this  !  I  feel  already  that  the  wind 
is  East  on  me  ! 

I  hope  my  httle  man  continues  to  satisfy  you  ?  His 
master — it  is  as  I  predicted.  But,  I  am  sure  things  will 
turn  out  better  by  and  by  :  and  can  wait — content  that 
he  should  be  under  your  care. — With  kindest  good  fellow- 
ship salute  to  your  husband,  I  am  your  most  faithful, 
contrite  George  Meredith. 


140        LETTERS  OF  GEORGE  MEREDITH 

To  the  Rev.  Augustus  Jessopp. 

EsHEE,  1864. 

My  dear  Jessopp, — ^Morley's  *  Writers  before  Chaucer  * 
is  not  '  worth  buying/  seeing  that  I  am  about  to  bring 
this  book  to  you. 

Your  cheery  letter  gave  me  particular  peace  of  mind 
on  a  matter  that  worried  me.  I  trust  all  will  go  tolerably 
well  with  the  book,  though  what  the  pubhc  will  make  of 
3  vols,  without  a  climax  of  incident  (Finis  waving  no 
nuptial  torch) — the  climax  being  all  in  a  development 
of  character — I  am  at  a  loss  to  imagine  ;  and  so  wait 
patiently,  hoping  for  here  and  there  a  critic  to  interpret 
me  to  the  multitude. 

As  to  your  proposal  (for  the  Whist  1 11  be  one,  not- 
withstanding that  I  am  led  to  suppose  Mrs.  Jessopp  plays 
comme  quatre  !) — I  must  let  the  boy  decide  ;  and  think 
he  '11  be  for  Copsham  in  the  county  of  Surrey.  I  expect 
to  be  able  to  come  to  you  next  Saturday.  Or,  if  Arthur 
comes  to  me,  shall  I  bring  him  back,  and  stay  for  a  longer 
term  ?  I  know  what  sharp  feminine  eyes  will  discern  in 
this.  It  reall}^  isn't  base  treason — indeed !  I  am  at  her 
mercy.  Write  by  return  of  post,  that  I  may  get  the  letter 
before  I  leave  here. — Yours  ever,    GeoPvGE  MePvEdith. 

To  William  Hardman. 

The  School  House, 
Norwich,  April  6   18G4. 

My  dear  Tuck, — You  will  have  received  a  copy  of 
'  Emiha  '  before  this.  Though  a  letter  of  yours  sent  to 
Chapman  &  Hall  was  a  week  old,  the  laughter  in  it  was 
fresh.  And  the  picture  of  Tuck  with  a  chumper  in  his 
hand  talking  majestic  about  his  new  domain  will  not 
speedily  pass  into  spectral  tints.  I  am  very  busy.  To 
save  myself  from  poetry  (which  I  haven't  done)  I  am 


LETTERS  OF  GEORGE  MEREDITH        141 

writing  a  few  stories,  and  shall  soon  be  at  a  regular  jog- 
trot, and  in  a  new  style.  Health  becoming  really  good  ; 
conception  blooming.  I  foresee  that  I  shall  get  knocks 
on  the  head  from  reviewers,  and  should  like  to  be  out 
of  hearing  for  3  months,  but  Courage  !  I  am  here  with 
the  Son,  who  is  in  good  condition.  .  .  . 

I  have  a  work  on  my  hands  to  correct ;  while  the  boys 
are  in  school.  '  Mazzini's  Works.'  There  's  a  Red  Cloak 
for  you,  Sir  John  !  With  this,  a  ta.le,  sketch  of  novel, 
etc.,  my  hours  are  occupied.  Write,  and  give  me  Demi- 
troia's  comments — ^they  '11  be  cruel.  Assure  me  of  j^'our 
love,  old  boy  !     And  know  me,         George  Meredith. 


To  William  Hardman. 

May  1864. 

Respected  Sir, — Indeed  if  vou  are  that  same  Tuck 
whom  I  knew,  which  is  possible ;  a-be  it  you  no  longer, 
as  is  told  me,  wear  a  waistcoat,  boasting  the  power  to 
embrace  2  sacks  of  potatoes  :  if  you  are  the  same,  I  laiow 
positively  that  your  heart  at  least  will  not  have  diminished 
and  that  I  am  not  ejected  from  it  during  its  daily  opera- 
tions. I  have  been  that  busy — but  more,  I  have  besides 
had  engagements  so  numerous — and  besides,  here  's  a  man 
staying  with  me,  Sandys,  the  artist,  pamting  a  great 
picture  of  Spring.  He  came  down  here  when  I  came. 
He  will  remain  probably  2  weeks  longer.  Dear  sir,  may 
I  bring  him  over  on  Sunday  ?  My  dear  Old  Boy  (for  it 
must  be  you  though  you  do  talk  so  strange)  I  am  ver}'- 
anxious  to  see  you.  I  have  been  to  Norv/icli,  to  the  Isle 
of  Wight,  to  Tunbridge  Wells  :  I  think  I  shall  have  to 
go  to  Italy,  for  ever3^body  says  '  Emilia  in  Italy  '  should 
be  forthcoming  as  speedily  as  may  be  :  and  I  want  a  httle 
local  colour.  You  will  like  Sandys.  He  is  a  fine  painter 
and  a  good  fellow.     As  regards  myself,  and  that 's  what 


142  LETTERS  OF  GEORGE  MEREDITH 

you  like  to  hear  of,  I  kiiow,  I  am  working  at  divers  things  : 
Wayside  Pieces,  Odes  (To  Garibaldi  and  Beethoven), 
Soimets,  *  Emiha  in  Italy,'  ^  the  Autobiographic  Tale, 
heaps  of  MSS,  Are  not  m}^  hands  full  ?  So  's  my  heart, 
but  there  's  always  a  comfortable  chamber  there  for  you 
both.  I  was  at  Cambridge  during  Newmarket  week  with 
certain  imdergraduates.  The  Cook  of  Trinity  distin- 
guished himself  nightly. 

I  rode  on  Beacon  turf,  but  did  not  bet.  I  wanted  to 
study  the  scene,  and  have  done  so.     I  saw  my  Prins. 

I  am  in  the  best  of  spirits,  as  perhaps  you  divine. 
Health  is  good  and  so  is  power  to  work,  and  one  daren't 
pray  for  more.  They  elected  me  for  the  Garrick.  My 
Tuck,  to  whom  the  honour.  How  is  Poco  ?  There  's 
no  room  for  him  here,  or  I  should  have  made  the  request 
for  his  society.  Write  to  your  much-tried  friend,  and 
never  judge  him  harshly. 

I  have  an  instinct  that  Demitroia  has  found  more 
excuses  for  me  than  j^ou  have. — ^Your  loving 

George  Meredith. 

Ethel  and  NeUie  must  be  well,  of  course,  since  they  are 
barely  mentioned.     My  love  to  them. 

To  the  Rev.  Augustus  Jessopp. 

EsHEE,  May  18,  1864. 

My  dear  Jessopp, — ^The  (Ipswich)  Journal  is  so  full  of 
advertisements  that  I  am  postponed,  anent  the  notice  of 
Sermons,  weekly,  and  can't  predicate  when  it  will  appear. 
Meantime,  send  a  volume  to  C.  Warren  Adams,  Esq., 
66  Brook  St.,  Hanover  Square.  He  will  review  it  (and 
at  least  without  hostility)  in  the  Church  and  State 
Review  :  I  hope  this  month,  but  am  not  certain.  I  shall 
try  to  get  a  fellow  to  notice  them  in  a  general  discussion 

'  Later  named  '  ViLtoria.' 


LETTERS  OF  GEORGE  MEREDITH         143 

of  the  subject  of  school  sermons.  I  am  vexed  and 
irritated  at  the  treatment  you  receive  :  but  it  is  of  this 
world. — I  get  slaps  for  having  written  '  Emilia.'  I  am 
*  eminently  '  this  or  that,  unpleasant,  in  Review  style. 
Have  you  ever  met  a  Reviewer  ?  It 's  curious  to  see 
how  small  this  thing  that  stings  can  be. — She  moves, 
which  is  good.  A  favourable  touch  to  her  in  the  '  Satur- 
day '  or  '  Times '  would  launch  her  into  more  than  the 
middle  of  a  2nd  edition.  I  am  hard  at  work  on  '  Emilia  in 
Italy  ' : — All  story,  te]l  IVIrs.  Jessopp  :  no  philosopher  pre- 
sent :  action,  excitement,  holding  of  your  breath,  chilling 
horror,  classic  sensation.  I  hope  to  get  finished  in  the 
Autumn.  I  have  also  in  hand  an  Autobiography  and  'The 
Adventures  of  Richmond  Roy,  and  his  friend  Contrivance 
Jack  :  Being  the  History  of  Two  Rising  Men,' — and  to 
be  a  spanking  bid  for  popularity  on  the  part  of  this  writer. 

I  say  !  what  a  charming  line  of  Rail  from  Norwich  to 
London  by  way  of  Ipswich.  But  apparently  little  known, 
for  those  who  took  the  journey  from  Norwich  on  a  day 
last  month  were  alone  in  the  carriage  the  entire  length 
of  the  route  ;  and  really  it  is  hard,  for  a  young  lady 
demands  all  your  resources  to  amuse  her  :  and  I  wonder 
whether  I  did  !  She  wants  a  photograph  of  the  little 
man.  Could  one  be  got  for  her  ?  She  is  well,  practising 
music  early,  and  I  still  wonder  why  both  of  you  won't 
think  her  very  handsome.  The  will  is  clearly  manifested 
in  your  refusal  to  do  so.  I  mean,  handsome,  of  that  style. 
Some  vitality  being  wanted  ;  but  the  lack  of  it  practically 
compensated  by  so  very  much  sweetness.  Thus  may  a 
cold  but  friendl}^  spectator  speak  of  her  ! 

Sandys  wiU  have  been  with  me  next  Friday  just  three 
weeks.  He  is  painting  country  for  background  of  a 
picture  of  the  maiden  Spring. 

'  Then  came  fair  ilay,  the  fairest  maid  on  earth,' 


144  LETTERS  OF  GEORGE  MEREDITH 

with  heaps  of  flowers  at  her  feet  and  immense  periwigs 
of  apple-blossom  about  her  poll.  She  with  a  look  of 
unconsciousness  and  a  rainbow  over  her  head  and  such 
larks  in  the  sky  :  a  nice  girl.  We  walk  hard,  though 
Sandys  is  not  much  of  a  leg  at  it  and  develops  groaning 
feet,  etc.  At  7 1  we  dine  and  are  uproarious,  and  I  wish 
and  he  wishes  you  were  with  us.  Tom  Taylor  speaks 
well  of  his  work  in  the  Academy.  I  suppose  he  will  be 
here  about  a  month  longer,  he  has  so  much  to  do.  He  is 
going  to  give  me  a  drawing  of  Arthur,  and  also  of — what 's 
the  name  ?  I  've  forgotten  the  name  of  the  person,  but 
am  not  the  less  grateful  for  his  kindness.  This  latter  in 
the  time  to  come.  I  ask  him  whether  he  has  a  message 
for  you,  and  he  says  (or  tries  to  say)  that  one  never  knows 
what  message  to  send  to  those  one  cares  for,  except  that 
he  'd  be  glad  if  you  were  here. 

Since  we  parted  I  've  been  to  Tunbridge  Wells,  to 
Ventnor,  to  Cambridge,  and  half  over  Surrey.  I  came 
here  first  with  Sandys,  so  you  may  imagine  that  I  haven't 
had  much  time  to  spare.  All  kind  things  to  Mrs.  Jessopp  ! 
The  young  lady  who  made  her  acquaintance  in  Norwich 
says  innumerable  kind  things  of  her.  (I  don't  mention 
what  is  the  Norwich  return  for  this  ingenuous  heartiness.) 
Addio,  dear  friend. — I  am  your  loving 

Geokge  Meredith. 

To  William  Hardman. 

May  29,  1864. 

My  dearest  Tuck, — I  daresay  you  have  thought  that 
something  was  going  on  to  make  my  love  for  you  seem 
less  faithful  and  constant  than  it  was.  I  have  an  immense 
deal  to  tell  you,  and  something  to  ask  you  to  do.  But 
you  must  remain  m3'stificd  until  we  meet.  I  would  come 
to-day,  but  Lethbridj^^e  (Smith's  partner)  is  here,  and  I 
cannot  leave  him.     Tr}^  to  hold  yourself  disengaged  to 


LETTERS  OF  GEORGE  MEREDITH         145 

come  on  a  mission  with  me  next  Wednesday.  You  will 
be  away  all  night,  but  Demitroia  will  excuse  it,  seeing 
that  it  is  to  make  me  a  new  man.  I  will  come  on  Monday 
evening  or  Tuesday  afternoon.  I  hope  to  get  '  Emiha  in 
Italy  '  into  the  Cornhill.  Tell  my  dearest  D.  that  she 
will  be  launched  on  a  sea  of  adventure  and  excitement, 
and  by  the  way,  thank  her  for  the  pretty  notice  I  saw 
to-day  in  the  '  Saturday.'  She  gives  her  criticism  very 
gently.  But  (tell  her  this)  there  is  an  end  now  to  my 
working  with  puppets.  I  enter  active  life  with  my  people, 
and  my  resolve  to  merit  money, — ^which  should  mean,  to 
make  it.  Health  sound,  and  brain  in  fine  working  order. 
I  must  stop  or  I  shall  be  rushing  into  betrajdng  ex- 
clamations. It  will  not  be  a  severe  task  for  you,  this 
service  I  require  of  my  friend.  D.  at  your  elbow  starts 
one  brilliant  guess.  She  is  right.  Good-bye. — Your 
loving  George  M. 


To  William  Hardman. 

MiCKLEHAM,  June  1,  1864. 

My  dear  Hardman, — Here  the  word  is  that  Saturday 
will  do  better.  Also  will  that  suit  you  ?  Please  send 
word  to  Ch.  &  H.'s.  I  shall  come  to  Mickleham  on  Friday 
and  my  M.  says  we  will  meet  you  at  Leatherhead  station 
on  Saturday,  if  you  will  assure  us  of  the  train  j'ou  will 
come  by.  She  adds  that  you  are  to  speak  your  full 
conviction  of  me,  seeing  that  her  Papa  can't  bear  to  lose 
her,  though  he  always  lets  his  daughters  have  their  way 
in  these  matters,  sauf  the  guarantee  of  moral  character 
and  sufficient  pecuniary  resources,  these  are  the  points. 
God  bless  you,  and  take  all  my  thanks  for  your  good 
heart  (and  D.'s)  to  me  in  this  the  closest  business  that 
ever  hugged  my  heart. — ^Your  own  George  M. 

VOL.  I. — K 


146        LETTERS  OF  GEORGE  MEREDITH 

To  the  Rev.  Augustus  Jessopp. 

EsHEE,  June  6,  1864. 

My  dear  Jessopp, — It  is  time  that  your  friend  should 
show  you  a  clean  breast. — He  loves  a  woman  as  he  never 
yet  loved,  and  she  for  the  first  time  has  let  her  heart  escape 
her.  She  is  not  unknown  to  you,  as  you  both  immediately 
divine.  She  is  the  sweetest  person  I  have  ever  known, 
and  is  of  the  family  which  above  all  others  I  respect  and 
esteem.  Her  father  is  a  just  and  good  man  ;  her  sisters 
are  pure  gentlewomen  :  she  is  of  a  most  affectionate  and 
loving  nature.  May  I  be  worthy  of  the  love  she  gives 
me  ! 

Your  surprise  over,  you  will  possibly  think  me  rash. 
My  friends,  who  know  of  this,  think  me  fortunate,  on 
reflection.  They  see  that  I  shall  now  first  Uve ;  that  I 
shaU  work  as  I  have  never  yet  done  ;  and  that,  to  speak 
materiaU}'',  marriage  will  not  increase  the  expenses  of  a 
man  hitherto  very  careless.  My  hope  stands  like  a  fixed 
lamp  in  my  brain.  I  know  that  I  can  work  in  an  alto- 
gether different  fashion,  and  that  with  a  wife  and  such 
a  wife  by  my  side,  I  shall  taste  some  of  the  holiness  of  this 
mortal  world  and  be  new-risen  in  it.  Alreadj''  the  spur 
is  acting,  and  health  comes,  energy  comes.  I  feel  that 
I  can  do  things  well,  and  not  haphazard,  as  heretofore. 
...  I  can  hardly  make  less  than  eight  hundred,  reckon- 
ing modestly.  And  I  shall  now  hold  the  purse-strings 
warily. 

I  shall  not  speak  to  Arthur  tiU  he  is  with  me.  She  is 
very  fond  of  him,  and  will  be  his  friend.  He  wiU  find 
a  home  where  I  have  found  one, 

I  cannot  play  at  life.  I  loved  her  when  we  were  in 
Norwich.  '  Cathedruhsing '  would  not  otherwise  have 
been  my  occupation.  I  believe  that  I  do  her  good  :  I 
know  that  she  feels  it.     Me  she  fills  with  such  deep  and 


LETTERS  OF  GEORGE  MEREDITH         147 

reverent  emotion  that  I  can  hardly  think  it  the  action 
of  a  human  creature  merely.  I  seem  to  trace  a  fable 
thus  far  developed  by  blessed  angels  in  the  skies.  She 
has  been  reserved  for  me,  my  friend.  It  was  seen  that 
I  could  love  a  woman,  and  one  has  been  given  to  me  to 
love.  Her  love  for  me  is  certain.  I  hold  her  strongly 
in  my  hand.  Write — I  thirst  to  hear  words  from  you. 
Address  to  Piccadilly.  And  if  Mrs.  Jessopp  can  feel  that 
she  can  congratulate  my  beloved  and  thank  her  for  loving 
me — ^Ah  !  will  she  let  her  know  this  ? — her  address  is 

Miss  Marie  Vulliamy, 
Mickleham, 
near  Dorking, 
Surrey. 

Also,  teU  Mrs.  Jessopp  that  '  Emilia  '  is  runnmg  very  fast 
in  Italy,  and  that  we  may  hope  to  see  the  damsel  of  the 
fiery  South  (no  longer  tripped  and  dogged  by  Philosopher 
or  analyst)  by  late  Autumn.  I  have  an  arrangement  to  do 
a  serial  for  '  Once  a  Week,'  and  a  series  of  wayside  pieces 
for  the  *  ComhiU,'  Sandys  illustrating,  is  on  the  tapis. 
These  wiU  ultimately  form  a  volume  special  and  I  hope 
popular.  Adieu  to  you  both  !  Will  two  be  welcome 
some  day  ?  She  has  ventured  to  say  that  she  hopes  so. 
— Your  loving  George  Meredith, 


To  Captain  Maxse. 

June  6,  1864, 

Esher  is  the  address,  and  your  letter  to  Mickleham 
astonished  us  all.  I  read  it  and  handed  it  to  my  beloved, 
who  said — '  How  heartil}'^  he  writes  !  he  must  be  one  of 
your  true  friends.'  Pray,  write  to  her  at  once,  if  you 
have  the  kindly  impulse.  It  will  please  her,  for  I  have 
talked  much  of  you  and  my  feeling  for  you  :    of  your 


148        LETTERS  OF  GEORGE  MEREDITH 

happiness  with  your  beloved,  which  she  would  rival. 
And  she  wishes  to  feel  that  my  friends  are  to  be  hers. 
The  letter  will  be  a  charming  surprise  to  her.  An  assur- 
ance also  that  I  am  cared  for,  here  and  there,  and  by 
worthy  men.  Your  wife  is  sure  to  love  her.  If  God 
gives  her  to  me,  I  may  certainly  say  that  our  wives  will 
be  as  much  heart  in  heart  as  we  are.  We  shall  see  one 
another  more.  Ah  !  when  you  speak  of  Ploverfield  for 
us  during  the  first  sweet  days  of  our  union,  you  touch 
me  deeply  and  breathe  fair  auspices.  I  shall  accept,  if 
it  can  be  arranged.  I  could  not  choose  another  place 
while  that  door  stood  open.  My  friend,  I  have  written 
of  love  and  never  felt  it  till  now. — I  have  much  to  pass 
through  in  raking  up  my  history  with  the  first  woman 
that  held  me.  But  I  would  pass  through  fire  for  my 
darling,  and  all  that  I  have  to  endure  seems  little  for  the 
immense  gain  I  hope  to  get.  When  her  hand  rests  in 
mine,  the  world  seems  to  hold  its  breath,  and  the  sun  is 
moveless.  I  take  hold  of  Eternity.  I  love  her. — She 
is  intensely  emotional,  but  without  expression  for  it, 
save  in  music.  I  call  her  my  dumb  poet.  But  when 
she  is  at  the  piano,  she  is  not  dumb.  She  has  a  divine 
touch  on  the  notes. — Yes,  she  is  very  fond  of  the  boy. 
Not  at  all  in  a  gushing  way,  but  fond  of  him  as  a  good 
Httle  fellow,  whom  she  trusts  to  make  her  friend.  As 
to  her  family  :  the  old  man  is  a  good  and  just  old  man, 
who  displays  the  qualities  by  which  he  made  what  fortune 
he  has.  There  are  three  sons,  four  daughters.  The 
sons  are  all  in  business  in  France — wool  manufacturers, 
or  something.  They  and  the  girls  were  strictly  brought 
up  at  home  at  Nonancourt  in  Normandy.  Marie  was 
seventeen  when  seven  years  ago  they  came  to  England. 
They  have  been  about  five  years  in  Mickleham  Vale,  On 
Saturday  next,  Kitty,  the  third — the  one  preceding  my 
beloved — is  to  be  married  at  the  little  church  :    Marie 


LETTERS  OF  GEORGE  MEREDITH         149 

being  first  bridesmaid,  and  I  shall  see  her.  The  eldest 
sister  is  married  to  a  French  officer,  who  has  an  estate 
in  Dauphine,  and  is  a  good  working  soldier — '  a  rough 
diamond,'  says  Marie.  The  eldest  unmarried  sister, 
Betty,  is  a  person  of  remarkable  accomplishments  and 
very  clear  intellect,  vivacious  and  actively  religious  : 
therefore  tolerant,  charitable,  and  of  a  most  pure  heart. 
Kitty,  the  present  bride,  takes  her  Christianit}^  with  more 
emotion  :  she  teaches  the  children  of  the  parish,  while 
Betty  every  Sunday  evening  has  a  congregation  of  the 
men  and  women  in  a  bam.  Do  j^ou  smile  ?  Much  good 
has  been  done  bv  these  two  women.  I  saw  last  Sundav 
a  man  rescued  by  Betty  from  mveterate  drunkenness, 
and  happ3^  They — ^uideed  all  of  them,  are  thoroughly 
loved  by  the  poor  throughout  the  district,  and  respected 
by  aE  but  the  party  clergyman,  who  declares  that  their 
behaviour  (Betty  chief  culprit)  has  been  a  scandal,  and 
that  he  will  countenance  none  of  them — ^neither  marrv 
them,  bury  them,  nor  in  any  way  bless  them.  I  heard 
him  preach  last  Sunday  morning,  and  Oh !  alas  for 
Orthodox}^  !  Marie,  however  (she  has  strong  common 
sense,  as  have  all  real  emotional  natures),  takes  her  own 
view,  and  says  she  thinks  Betty  wrong  in  taking  the 
clergyman's  work  out  of  his  hands.  '  But  if  he  doesn't 
do  it  ?  '  '  Yes,  but  his  curate  is  anxious  to  try,  and 
Betty  has  such  influence,  and  speaks  so  closely  to  the 
hearts  of  the  poor,  that  they  will  Hsten  to  no  one  else.' — 
The  controversy  is  at  that  point.  Marie  does  not  go  to 
the  barn  :  but,  to  please  her  sister,  is  willing,  now  that 
Kitty  goes,  to  do  her  best  among  the  children,  until  she 
likewise  is  led  away. — To  Ploverfield  ?  I  sound  the 
echoes  of  the  future.  Oh  !  is  it  to  be  ?  There  could 
not  be  a  fairer,  sweeter  companion,  or  one  who  would 
more  perfectly  wed  with  me.  She  tries  to  make  me 
understand  her  faults.     I  spell  at  them  like  a  small  boy 


150        LETTERS  OF  GEORGE  MEREDITH 

with  his  fingers  upon  words  of  one  syllable.     Of  course 
some  faults  exist.     But  she  has  a  growing  mind  and  a 
developing  nature.     Love  is  doing  wonders  with  her. — 
I  could  write  on  for  hours,  but  I  have  letters  and  work 
calling  loudly  stop.     We  shall  hve,  I  fancy,  about  my 
present  distance  from  London.      But  where  to  find  a 
cottage  of  the  kind  I  require,  is  the  problem.     What  you 
say  of  income  is  sensible,  and  has  not  been  unthought  of 
by  me.     If  I  did  not  feel  courage  in  my  heart  and  a  strong 
light  in  my  brain,  I  should  not  dare  to  advance  in  this 
path  ;    but  in  those  vital  points  I  have  fuU  promise. 
I  shall  now  write  in  a  different  manner.     We  will  speak 
further  on  the  subject  when  we  meet.     Let  me  know 
what  day  you  think  I  may  select  to  present  you.     The 
week  after  this  will  exactly  do.     And  the  Monday  or 
Tuesday  of  it  would  be  the  best  days,  if  possible  ;    or 
add,  the  Wednesday.     Try  to  give  her  the  whole  day, 
so  that  you  may  hear  her  play  in  the  evening,  and  see 
her  in  all  her  lights  and  shades,  and  know  the  family — 
the  best  specimen  of  the  middle-class  that  1  have  ever 
seen — pure  gentlewomen,  to  call  one  of  whom  wife  and 
the  rest  sisters  is  a  great  honour  and  blessing.     God 
bless  you,  dear  fellow.     This  letter  and  all  the  tenderness 
of  my  heart  is  for  Mrs.    Maxse    as  well  as  for  yourself. 
My  kindest  wishes  for  Boy. — 1  am  ever  your  loving 

George  Meredith. 

To  William  Ilardman. 

June  7,  1864. 

My  dearest  Tuck, — She  wishes  to  see  Esher,  and  a 
friend  drives  her  over  to-morrow.  It  has  been  post- 
poned once  or  twice  .  .  .  What  do  you  think  of  her  ? 
Is  she  not  worth  anything  or  all  in  the  world  ?  And  she 
likes  you  so  much — thinks,  I  beheve,  better  of  me  for 
having  such  a  friend,  and  hopes  that  IMrs.  Hardman  may 


LETTERS  OF  GEORGE  MEREDITH        151 

take  to  her.  I  never  touched  so  pure  and  so  conscience- 
clear  a  heart.  M}^  own  is  almost  abashed  to  think  itself 
beloved  by  such  a  creature.  The  day  when  she  is  to  be 
mine  blinds  me.  Will  it  come  ?  It  flickers  like  light- 
ning in  my  brain.  It  will  not  burn  steadily.  I  can't 
grasp  it.  What  does  this  mean  ? — I  am  troubled,  but 
can  work. — Your  loving  George  M. 


To  Captain  Maxse. 

London,  1864. 

My  dear  Maxse, — I  have  told  my  darling  girl  that  you 
will  come  and  inspect  her  on  Monday.  She,  having  a 
great  heart,  stands  prepared,  and  a  hope  is  expressed 
that  you  will  consent  to  dine  there.  We  will  sleep  at  the 
Inn  or  walli:  home  to  Esher,  just  as  you  think  fit.  And 
how  will  you  arrange  to  come  ?  Will  you  come  to  Esher 
in  the  morning  and  v/alk  to  Mickleham  in  the  afternoon  ? 
In  that  case  she  will  march  to  meet  us.  Or  will  you  get 
out  of  the  train  at  Guildford  and  +ake  another  that  will 
(see  train  book)  put  you  down  at  Dorking  or  Box-hiU 
station.  In  that  case,  we  should  march  to  meet  you. 
I  confess  I  should  like  to  see  you  first ;  for  I  am  told  by 
a  ladj^  that  she  would  not  be  considered  handsome  though 
she  is  perfectly  charming  in  manner  and  in  face.  I  tell 
you  this  with  a  rueful  drop  of  the  chin  and  a  yearning 
strain  of  the  eye.  You  are  to  suppose  that  I  have  not 
called  her  handsome. 

Give  my  dearest  regards,  m.y  thanks,  my  kindest 
wishes,  to  Mrs.  Maxse,  who  speaks  so  tenderly  of  her 
and  me.     Write  by  return  post.' — I  am  ever  your  loving 

George  Meredith. 


152        LETTERS  OF  GEORGE  MEREDITH 

To  William  Hardman. 

At  the  Sign  of  '  The  Angel,' 
MiCKLEHAM,  July  12,  1864. 

Beloved  Family  HARDivLiN, — And  here  is  Marie 
writing  a  race  with  me  by  my  side  !  The  difficulties 
have  been  smoothed  ;  we  have  indeed  plunged  through 
powerful  conflicts,  and  tnily  Hke  Shadrach,  Meshach 
and  Abednego,  we  Ukewise  have  passed  through  fire, 
and  by  miracle  we  bore  it  and  rose  from  it,  fresh,  fragrant 
— did  ever  man  have  such  a  sweet  reward  ?  And  behold 
her  lashing  her  dear  wits  for  next  word,  and  pretending, 
all  the  while,  to  be  looking  at  her  sister-in-law  !  She 
has  got  it ! — ^No.  Yes,  she  is  off  !  Well,  Tuck,  I  trust 
our  fight  is  nearly  over.  The  present  design  is,  that  we 
engage  a  furnished  house  for  a  year,  and  meantime  look 
about  for  a  house  that  will  suit  us.  I,  your  Robin,  em- 
boldened b}^  his  new  and  most  lovely  prospects,  have  done 
this  :  I  said  to  Chapman's,  I  have  done  much,  will  do 
more  :  will  be  in  Piccadilly  3  afternoons  m  the  week  : 
will  write  all  your  letters  anent  MSS.  :  wiU  occasionally, 
when  imperative,  see  the  authors  (my  name  not  being 
given)  and  so  forth  :  thus,  as  Tuck  sees,  becoming  a  chief 
person,  and  at  no  great  cost,  and  with  suitable  addition 
to  pay.  It  should  be  £300.  It  shall  not  be  less  than 
£250.  The  matter  wiU  be  settled  in  a  week.  Both 
Edward  and  Fredlc.  were  glad  of  the  work  I  had  under- 
taken to  do.  Don't  my  Tuck  approve  ?  I  know  that 
Demitroia  does.  Indeed  the  family  Hardman  does,  I 
know.  It  will  be  a  proper  addition  to  our  means,  and 
the  economical  talk  of  my  blessed  Marie  is  such  delicious 
music  !  *  Our  towels  wiU  cost — so  much  :  our  sheets — 
so  much  ;  and  you  mustn't  mind  its  being  so  dear,'  etc. 
Tuck,  you  talk  of  wisdom  and  you  talk  of  poetry  :  but 
beat  that,  if  you  can  !     Adams,  do  you  know,  is  doing 


LETTERS  OF  GEORGE  MEREDITH         153 

the  '  Career  of  the  Alabama.'  ^  He  heard  of  Semmes 
putting  into  Cherbourg  :  started  :  reached  him,  after 
marvellous  difficulties  with  Port  Admirals  and  gens 
d'armes,  on  the  very  eve  of  his  fight  with  the  Kearsage. 
Semmes  hailed  him  with  joy  ;  he  '  wanted  some  one  to 
whom  to  confide  his  papers,  and  was  despairing  of  finding 
one.'  Gave  the  papers  (journals,  etc.  Log)  to  Adams, 
to  do  as  he  pleased  with  them.  I  have  done  the  first 
and  last  chapter — offered  to  do  the  whole,  but  Adams 
could  only  wait  five  days  to  get  the  book  out ;  so  I  de- 
clined this  fiery  proximity  to  the  printers'  devil.  Adams 
has  been  in  a  dressing-gown  ever  since,  is  blue  about  the 
chin,  as  if  blown  up  in  a  recent  naval  engagement,  and 
has  generally  the  appearance  of  an  elongated  Mantalini 
returned  to  his  wife,  but  legless.  By  the  way,  there  's 
a  highly  appreciative  summary  of  my  literary  deeds  in  a 
lengthy  article  in  the  Westminster  Review.  The  New 
Novel  (Vittoria)  is  going  on  swimmingly.  Sandys  has 
heard  the  first  150  pages,  and  says  it  is  extremely  inter- 
esting, and  likely  to  be  by  far  the  best  thing  I  have  done. 
Lucas  is  charmed  with  the  sketch  of  the  Autobiography; 
but  owing  to  certain  changes  going  on  in  relation  to 
0.  a  W.  he  has  not  yet  sent  word  for  me  to  start  away. 
Thus  we  are  in  a  Httle  uncertainty.  Oh  Lord  !  Tuck, 
here  's  my  heart  swelling  and  sinking  like  night  waves 
pressing  to  a  beacon-light.  Oh !  that  it  were  over. 
My  compliments  to  Albrecht,  with  whom  I  hope  to  make 
acquaintance  :  Poco  and  mj^seK  intend  to  compose  an 
Essay  on  '  The  Occurrences,'  illustrated  by  the  meeting 
in  this  world  of  Albrecht  and  Tuck. 

I  had  intended  to  walk  over  to  Hampton  and  see  j'our 
darlings  before  writing,  but  this  is  Wednesday,  and  I  shall 
have  no  afternoon  to  myself  before  Saturday,  the  day 

^  Probably  The,  Cruise  of  the  Alabama  and  the  Sumter  (Saunders. 
Otley  and  Co.,  1864). 


154        LETTERS  OF  GEORGE  MEREDITH 

you  name  as  the  last  for  Bellagio.  More  letters,  dear 
old  boy  ! 

God  bless  you  both,  and  keep  you  jolly  ! 

WE  realise  your  happiness  !    Aha  !  WE  ! — Your  loving 

George  M. 

To  the  Rev.  AuguMus  Jessopp. 

Ploverfield,  Bursledon, 
Southampton,  July  1864. 

My  dear  and  good  Friend  ! — I  know  that  you  are 
excusing  my  singular  way  of  treating  you. 

There  will  be  provision  and  beds  at  Copsham  on  Monday 
for  you  and  Arthur  ;  a  carriage  shall  be  provided  to  bring 
you  on  to  Mickleham,  my  friend  Hardman  will  call  for 
you  and  take  you  up.  The  ceremony  will  have  to  be 
performed  earh',  for  Hardman  has  to  make  a  rush  to 
be  in  Liverpool  at  a  brother-in-law's  marriage  the  day 
following. 

You  have  perfect  faith  in  me — I  feel  it.  I  have  a  new 
arrangement  to  settle  with  Ch.  &  Hall  :  I  expect  to  get 
the  conductorship  of  a  new  jMagazine  :  weU  supported. 
I  have  laid  lines  right  and  left  :  engaged  to  do  a  1  vol. 
story  within  a  certain  term  :  and  in  short  spread  traps 
for  money  everywhere.  .  .  . — ^Your  loving 

George  M. 

To  Captain  Maxse. 

MicKLEDAM,  Dorking,  Avgust  29,  1864. 

My  dear  Fred, — I  write  with  mj'^  beloved  beside  me  ; 
my  thrice  darling — of  my  body,  my  soul,  my  song  !  I 
have  never  loved  a  woman  and  felt  love  grow  in  me. 
This  clear  and  lovely  nature  doubles  mine.  And  she 
has  humour,  my  friend.  She  is  a  charming  companion, 
as  well  as  the  staunchest  heart  and  fairest  mistress.  You 
will  not  fail  us  on  our  marriage  day  ! — A  goodl}''  host  of 


LETTERS  OF  GEORGE  MEREDITH         155 

friends  will  be  here.     Janet  and  Sir  Alec  come — and  Oh  ! 
I  would  that  the  day  were  over.  .  .  .  Will  it  be  possible 
to  get  a  cottage  near  the  New  Forest,  or  in  it  ?  or  near 
Ploverfield,  for  two  weeks,  until  my  friend's  house  is 
open  to  us  ?     I  shall  come  to  you  in  about  a  week  on 
my  way  to  Normandy,  to  fetch  hither  Marie's  married 
sister,  who  wishes  to  be  present  on  the  great  occasion. 
You   will  see  the  three  together,   and  what  charming 
creatures  they  are.     I  am  quite  fixed  in  this  place,  and 
all  are  kind.     The  old  man  is  changed,  and  makes  the 
best  of  the  bad  business  for  him.     He  proposes  to  buy 
Copsham,  or  any  likely  spot,  and  build  a  house  there  for 
us,  with  a  portion  of  the  money  he  settles  on  Marie. 
Meantime  we  take  a  furnished  house  for  six  months,  in 
or  near  Kingston.     You  and  your  wife,  my  friend,  will 
visit  us.     I  loiow  that  your  wife  will  find  a  large-hearted 
friend  in  mine.     You,  too,  will  find  that  your  friend  is 
another  man.     I  think  my  work  must  prosper  under  such 
noble  influence. — '  Vittoria  '  does  not  proceed  fast,  but 
the  matter  is  of  a  good  sort.     I  've  half  a  mind  to  bring 
you  half  a  dozen  chapters  to  read  to  you.     My  Marie 
copies  them  regularly. — There  's  a  chance  of  my  getting 
an  under  Editorship  of  a   new  Review  :    a  fellow  who 
is  merely  to  be  titular  chief,  acting  as  head.     I  presume 
I  shall  be  paid  well.     It  is  decided  in  a  couple  of  months. 
More  when  we  meet,  on  this  subject.     I  fancy  it  may  be 
a  good  thing. 

When  I  come  to  you  I  must  expend  a  day  at  L}Tidhurst 
in  search  for  the  furnished  cottage,  but,  could  j^ou  mean- 
time make  inquiries  ?  I  wish  it  to  be  tolerably  near 
Ploverfield. — How  of  your  health  ?  You  are  silent 
upon  that.  Were  I  with  you  a  week  I  would  bring  you 
into  a  better  state.  Now  that  I  am  no  longer  fretted, 
and  running  twice  a  day  between  Mickleham  and  Cop- 
sham,  I  begin  to  feel  my  strength  agam. — Marie  says  at 


156        LETTERS  OF  GEORGE  MEREDITH 

my  elbow — '  The  worst  of  being  at  Ploverfield  is  that 
Captain  Maxse  and  his  wife  will  be  away  when  we  are 
there.'  This  is  not  to  be  always  the  case.  Adieu. 
My  kind  regards  (we  must  sit  together  and  invent  new 
phrases)  to  Mrs.  Maxse.  Write,  saying  whether  j^-ou  can 
receive  me  next  week — Friday  week  ? — Your  loving 

George  M. 

To  the  Rev.  AuguMus  Jessopp. 

Sept.  20,  1864. 

My  dear  Jessopp, — As  to  the  Poems  :  I  don't  think 
the  age  prosaic  for  not  buying  them.  A  man  who  hopes 
to  be  popular,  must  think  from  the  mass,  and  as  the  heart 
of  the  mass.  If  he  follows  out  vagaries  of  his  own  brain, 
he  cannot  hope  for  general  esteem  ;  and  he  does  smaller 
work.  '  Modern  Love  '  as  a  dissection  of  the  sentimental 
passion  of  these  days,  could  only  be  apprehended  by  the 
few  who  would  read  it  many  times.  I  have  not  looked 
for  it  to  succeed.  Why  did  I  write  it  ? — Who  can  account 
for  pressure  ?  .  .  . 

Between  realism  and  idealism  there  is  no  natural  con- 
flict. This  completes  that.  Realism  is  the  basis  of 
good  composition  :  it  implies  study,  observation,  artistic 
power,  and  (in  those  who  can  do  more)  humility.  Little 
writers  should  be  realistic.  They  would  then  at  least 
do  solid  work.  They  afflict  the  world  because  they  will 
attempt  that  it  is  given  to  none  but  noble  workmen  to 
achieve.  A  great  genius  must  necessarily  employ  ideal 
means,  for  a  vast  conception  cannot  be  placed  bodily 
before  the  eye,  and  remains  to  be  suggested.  Idealism 
is  as  an  atmosphere  whose  effects  of  grandeur  are  wrought 
out  through  a  series  of  illusions,  that  are  illusions  to  the 
sense  within  us  only  when  divorced  from  the  groundwork 
of  the  real.  Need  there  be  exclusion,  the  one  of  the 
other  ?     The  artist  is  incomplete  who  docs  this.     Men 


LETTERS  OF  GEORGE  MEREDITH         157 

to  whom  I  bow  my  head  (Shakespeare,  Goethe  ;  and  in 
their  way,  MoHere,  Cervantes)  are  Reahsts  an  fond.  But 
they  have  the  broad  arms  of  Ideahsm  at  command.  They 
give  us  Earth  ;  but  it  is  earth  with  an  atmosphere.  One 
may  find  as  much  amusement  in  a  Kaleidoscope  as  in  a 
merely  idealistic  writer  :  and,  just  as  sound  prose  is  of 
more  worth  than  pretentious  poetry,  I  hold  the  man 
who  gives  a  plain  wall  of  fact  higher  in  esteem  than  one 
who  is  constantly  shuffling  the  clouds  and  dealing  with 
airy,  delicate  sentimentalities,  headless  and  tailless  ima- 
ginings, despising  our  good,  plain  strength. 

Does  not  all  science  (the  mammoth  balloon,  to  wit)  tell 
us  that  when  we  forsake  earth,  we  reach  up  to  a  frosty, 
inimical  Inane  ?  For  my  part  I  love  and  cling  to  earth, 
as  the  one  piece  of  God's  handiwork  which  we  possess. 
I  admit  that  we  can  refashion  ;  but  of  earth  must  be  the 
material. — ^Yours  faithful,  George  Meredith. 


To  Miss  M'Einch. 

Southampton,  1864. 

My  dear  Bridesmaid  No.  1, — I  am  quite  well.  Are 
you  quite  well  ?  We  are  quite  well.- — The  conjugation 
being  thus  concluded,  I  proceed  to  tell  you  that  we  have 
set  our  hearts  (strike  out  the  '  s  ')  upon  your  coming  down 
here.  Not  that  we  are  in  need  of  even  you,  but  we 
want  to  show  you  a  picture  of  perfect  felicity,  and  think 
it  will  do  you  good.  Perhaps  we  may  not  mind  talking 
to  you,  but  we  do  not  promise  that  we  shall.  Now,  you 
good  friend  of  my  beloved,  understand  me  clearly  that 
we  both  wish  to  see  you  very  much,  and  to  have  you  with 
us  when  we  are  at  Ploverfield,  for  the  reason  that  you  are 
dear  to  us  in  the  first  place,  and  in  the  second  that  we 
think  we  can  amuse  you  here  and  give  you  pleasant 
yachting.    We   go   to   Ploverfield   the   first   week   next 


158        LETTERS  OF  GEORGE  MEREDITH 

month.  It  will  be  a  shame  to  take  you  from  your  Aunt. 
I  must  confess  I  should  do  so  without  compunction. 
Having  taken  Marie,  I  am  capable  of  anything  ;  and  if 
I  could  discern  a  really  deserving  fellow — but  Mrs.  Smith 
need  not  fear  :  they  are  not  too  numerous  and  we  have 
none  at  hand.  We  are  on  the  point  of  going  for  a  sail. 
Marie  is  at  work  terminating  her  letter  opposite  to  me. 
She  says  that  she  is  happy,  and  I  beheve  the  woman. 
Whither  has  the  philosopher  in  me  fled  ?  Possibly  you 
may  have  keener  eyes.  Come  and  use  them.  You  see, 
I  am  not  afraid  of  you.  Do  persuade  Mrs.  Smith  to  part 
with  you  for  a  short  term.  I  promise  to  take  every  care 
of  my  Bridesmaid.  I  beg  you  to  present  my  most  re- 
spectful compliments  to  ]\Irs.  Smith  and  to  kiss  Evelyn 
for  me  mightily.  Marie  shall  repay  you  for  the  outlay. — 
I  am  your  most  faithful  Geokge  Meredith. 


To  William  Hardman. 


Ploverfield,  Bubsledon, 
Southampton,  Oct.  12,  1864. 


My  dear  Lord  Abbot, — I  am  working  mightily. 
Last  night  I  awoke,  and  at  3  o'clock  struck  a  light  and 
wrote  a  poem  on  Cleopatra  for  the  '  Cornhill,'  to  suit 
Sandys's  illustration.  Also  an  *  Ode  '  to  the  Napiers 
(part  of  it)  and  part  of  '  The  Ex-champion's  Lament.' 
I  say,  Young  Copperfield  !  I  never  had  such  a  fit  on 
me  since  the  age  of  21  ;  and  my  good  love,  waking  too, 
joyfully  assisted  by  lending  notcpapcr  and  soothing  me 
for  having  disturbed  her  slumber. 

The  air  here,  the  views  from  the  house  and  proximity 
to  still  water  make  the  place  glorious  :  and  the  house  is 
comfortable  as  could  be  desired.  Here  would  I  fix,  were 
it  possible  !     Write,  most  venerable  Father  !     I  really 


LETTERS  OF  GEORGE  MEREDITH         159 

trust  to  have  a  1  vol.  novel  for  January,  ripe  and  ready. 
'  Rhoda  Fleming,  a  Plain  Story.' — Your  loving 

George  M. 

To  William  Hardman. 

Ploverfield,  Bursledon, 
Southampton,  Oct.  24,  18G4. 

My  dear  Lord  Abbot, — You  frisk  not  in  your  letters 
to  me.  I  pay  you  due  respect,  but  an  you  continue  this 
tone  of  formahty,  by  God,  I  will  unfrock  you  !  Know 
that  Marie  is  the  wife  of  a  Pantagruel ;  she  is  sublime 
in  laughter.  We  sit  on  a  humourous  Olympus,  and  rule 
over  the  follies  of  mortals.  .  .  .  Your  letters  are  seen, 
forsooth  !  Your  letters,  oh  my  father,  are  reverently 
handled.  .  .  .  Life  here  is  jolly.  I  rise,  bathe,  run,  and 
come  blooming  to  breakfast,  having  tied  up  Sam  the 
vagabond  dog,  who  breaks  Maxse's  heart,  who  in  return 
does  his  best  to  break  Sam's  back.  I  treat  the  dog 
differently,  and  being  a  Celt  myself,  the  Irishman  compre- 
hends, and  loves  me,  and  won't  leave  me.  To-day  we 
went  out  fishing  in  the  boat,  and  Sam  would  follow, 
swimming  a  mile. 

The  house  is  most  pleasant.  We  cannot  accustom 
ourselves  to  anything  smaller.  And  yet.  Tuck,  tell  me 
of  Thames  Cottage,  for  I  haven't  heard  from  the  faithless 
Dame  Douglas,  who  swore  she  would  write,  and  send 
agreement.  .  .  .  '  Rhoda  Fleming  '  is  a  right  excellent 
story.  If  I  compress  it  into  one  volume  I  shall  bring 
it  back  complete.  In  any  case  it  will  be  out  in  the  winter. 
...  I  shall  rejoice  to  see  the  Hall.  But,  my  father,  in 
your  future  letters,  date  them  from  the  Refectory,  as 
of  yore.  I  give  myself  seven  years,  and  then,  an  I  be  not 
a  pallid  ghost,  I  will  fix  here  my  abode.  By  the  Nine 
Gods  !  Fancy  a  salt  river,  crystal  clear,  winding  under 
full-bosomed   woods,    to    a    Clovelly-like   village,    house 


160        LETTERS  OF  GEORGE  MEREDITH 

upon  house,  with  ships,  and  trawlers,  and  yachts  moored 
under  the  windows,  and  away  the  flat  stream,  shining 
to  the  Southern  sun  till  it  reaches  Southampton  Water, 
with  the  New  Forest  over  it,  shadowy,  and  beyond  to 
the  left,  the  Solent  and  the  Island. 

This  is  possible  from  our  window. 

The  air  makes  athletes.  All  round  are  rohing  woods, 
or  healthy  hills.  The  Roads  are  hard  :  but  one  can't 
have  everything.  I  am  a  man  of  Bursledon,  mark  you. 
Adieu  !  I  must  to  work.  The  clock  's  on  12.  I  fondle 
Rhoda  for  an  hour  and  then  retire.  Out  with  the  hghts  ! 
Tell  me  much  news.  We  like  to  know  that  the  world 
lives.  There  's  trouble  ahead  :  a  cook,  I  cry  !  If  Nature 
really  abhors  a  vacuum,  she  '11  come.  Once  more  Adieu. 
Your  loving  George  M. 


To  Mrs.  Anne  Waugh. 

Ploverfibld,  Oct.  1864. 

My  dear  IVIrs.  Waugh, — I  don't  forget  the  good  heart 
you  showed  us  during  our  days  of  trouble  and  uncertainty. 
Here  is  Marie  writing  to  you,  and  I  rise  up  spontaneously 
to  speak  for  myself  and  tell  you  how  happy  I  am,  and 
what  a  capital  wife  I  have  got.  I  hke  the  women  who 
discerned  her  when  yet  undiscovered  because  I  know 
that  such  women  must  be  attracted  by  common  sense, 
simple  goodness  of  heart,  and  similar  if  noble  quahties, 
dear  to  me  as  well.  So  I  take  a  blunt  way  of  compli- 
menting you,  do  you  see  ?  We  should  be  glad  to  hear 
from  you  tidings  of  the  student  Frank ;  and  are  indeed 
glad  to  hear  from  the  valley.  You  heard  that  the  wedding 
passed  like  smooth  music  ?  And  I  had  to  make  a  speech, 
owing  to  the  man  who  carried  my  hat : — the  wretch  had 
basely  strung  together  some  neat  httle  illustrations 
wherewith  to  return  thanks  for  the  bridesmaids.     He 


LETTERS  OF  GEORGE  MEREDITH         IGl 

couldn't  give  them  up,  and  I  was  compelled  to  stand 
before  all  and  make  the  perfect  sacrifice  of  myself.  The 
whole  business  now  presents  itself  to  me  as  if  I  had  been 
blown  through  a  tube  and  landed  in  Matrimony  by 
Pneumatic  Despatch. — I  am,  my  dear  Mrs.  Waugh,  your 
most  faithful  Geoeqe  Meredith. 


To  the  Rev.  Augustv^  Jessopp. 


Plovekfield,  Buksledon, 
Southampton,  Oct.  1864. 


My  dear  Jessopp, — Now,  on  the  last  evening  of  my 
stay  here,  I  write  to  you,  having  been  intending  the 
thing  from  the  day  of  my  arrival.  The  truth  is,  I  write 
little  to  you  because  I  love  you  so  well  :  which  is  a  paradox 
on  the  surface  only.  When  I  think  of  writing  my  bosom 
swells  to  its  fullest,  and  I  shrink  in  dismay  from  the 
thought  of  emptying  it,  I  that  write  for  money,  money, 
money  ! — Do  you  see  that  ?  I  grasp  the  pen  frenziedly 
now  :  more  I  fear  from  a  feeling  of  duty,  or  because  I  'm 
ashamed  not  to  have  written.  We  return  to  Mickleham 
to-morrow.  To  Esher  in  about  a  week.  Marie  is  a  capital 
wife,  and  my  little  man  will  now  have  a  mother. — I  say  ! 
Do  you  know  that  you  have  made  an  impression  on 
Miss  Vulliamy  ?  It 's  too  true.  As  a  consequence,  she 
will  not,  I  think,  write  the  review  of  your  vol.  of  Sermons, 
as  she  once  promised.  I  will  press  it.  But  why  are  you 
handsome  ?  and  why  is  your  manner  charming  ? — Thus 
the  women  pronounce  :  and  I  'm  dreading  that  it  will 
go  against  the  plan  I  had  of  getting  Miss  V.  to  do  the 
Review.  *  She  would  not  dare.'  0  Rev.  Apollo  !  to 
these  things  should'st  thou  look  :  nor  frizz  the  lock,  nor 
modulate  the  tones.  For  if  you  carry  about  the  battery 
it  is  useless  to  plead  that  you  shot  not,  neither  did  you 
aim. 

VOL.  I. — L 


162        LETTERS  OF  GEORGE  IMEREDITH 

Forgues,  in  the  '  Revue  des  deux  Mondes,'  is  translating 

*  Emilia.' 

A  publisher  with  whom  I  have  an  appointment  this 
week  proposes  to  give  me  four  figures  (with  no  dot 
between)  for  a  novel.  Am  I  rising  ?  The  market 
speaks  ! 

I  have,  during  the  last  month  of  my  stay  here,  written 
250  pages  of  '  A  plain  Story  '  of  600  pages  (2  vols.). 
'  Vittoria  '  lags  :  but  will  be  good,  I  see.  I  have  had 
to  resist  awful  temptation  in  the  matter  of  verse  :  and 
succumbed  once  or  twice.     Smith  (of  the  *  Cornhill ')  while 

*  personally  admiring  "  Martin's  Puzzle,"  is  compelled 
to  say  he  thinks  it  would  offend  many  of  his  readers, 
and  must  therefore  beg  to,  etc.'  The  *  Cleopatra  '  to 
Sandys's  illustration  is  done.  '  Lines  '  merely  !  Not  of 
much  value,  but  containing  iire  as  well  as  wind. — When 
shall  we  meet  ? — I  shall  be  a  millionaiee  next  year. 
My  '  plain  story  '  is  first  to  right  me  and  then  the  3 
volumer  will  play  trumpets.  Write  to  me — perhaps  the 
Garrick  Club  is  the  best  address  for  two  or  three  weeks 
about  Wednesday  and  Friday  time.  Give  my  love  to  your 
wife,  whose  dear  hearty  face  I  long  to  see.  Will  you, 
will  you,  will  you  come  to  us  at  Christmas  ? — Adieu. 
Here  I  am,  and  could  go  on  now  almost  to  the  verge  of 
the  soup,  beyond  the  dinner  bell. 

Take  my  heart  and  my  name  at  the  bottom  of  it. 

George  Meredith. 

To  Miss  J // . 


193  Piccadilly,  London,  W.,  Nov.  22,  1864, 
The  chief  fault  in  your  stories  is  the  redundancy  of 
words  which  overlays  them  ;  and  the  chief  hope  visible 
in  them  is  the  copious  youthful  feeling  running  through- 
out. Your  characters  do  not  speak  the  language  of 
nature,  and  this  is  specially  to  be  charged  against  them 


LETTERS  OF  GEORGE  MEREDITH         163 

when  they  are  under  strong  excitement  and  should  most 
do  so.  Nor  are  the  characters  very  originally  conceived, 
though  there  is  good  matter  in  the  Old  Welshman  C.  Rees. 
Your  defect  at  present  lies  in  your  raw  feeling.  Time 
will  cure  this,  if  you  will  get  the  habit  of  looking  reso- 
lutely at  the  thing  you  would  pourtray,  instead  of  ex- 
claiming about  it  and  repeating  yourself  without  assisting 
the  reader  on  in  any  degree.  We  certainly  think  that 
you  are  a  hopeful  writer,  and  possibly  wo  have  been 
enough  outspoken  to  encourage  you  to  believe  us  sincere 
in  saying  so. 


To  Miss  J // . 

193  Piccadilly,  London,  W. 

Madam, — You  speak  of  the  exclamatory  style  as  being, 
you  think,  essentially  and  naturally  feminine.  If  you 
will  look  at  the  works  of  the  wi'iter  of  '  Adam  Bede,'  you 
will  see  that  she,  the  greatest  of  female  writers,  manifests 
nothing  of  the  sort.  It  is  simply  a  quality  of  youth, 
and  you  by  undertaking  to  study  will  soon  tame  your 
style.  Interjections  are  commonly  a  sign  of  raw  thought, 
and  of  vagrant  emotion  : — a  literary  hysteria  to  which 
women  may  be  more  subject  than  men  ;  but  they  can 
talk  in  another  tongue,  let  us  hope.  We  are  anxious  that 
you  should  not  be  chagrined  by  any  remarks  that  we 
have  made.  There  is  real  promise  in  your  work  :  but 
remember  that  the  best  fiction  is  fruit  of  a  well-trained 
mind.  If  hard  study  should  kill  your  creative  effort, 
it  will  be  no  loss  to  the  world  or  to  you.  And  if,  on  the 
contrary, the  genius  you  possess  should  survive  the  process 
of  mental  labour,  it  will  be  enriched  and  worthy  of  a  good 
rank.  But  do  not  be  discouraged  by  what  we  say  ; 
and  do  not  listen  to  the  encomiums  of  friends.  Read  the 
English  of  the  Essayists  ;  read  de  Stendhal  (Henri  Beyle) 


164        LETTERS  OF  GEORGE  INIEREDITH 

in  French  ;  Heinrich  Zschokke  in  German  (minor  tales). 
Learn  to  destroy  your  literary  offspring  remorselessly 
until  you  produce  one  that  satisfies  your  artistic  feeling. 

To  William  Hardman. 

MrcKLEHAM,  Dec.  18,  1864. 

Beloved  Tuck, — The  Christmas  season  causes  that 
contemplation  should  make  you  specially  its  object. 
Marie  went  in  the  afternoon  for  a  second  edition   of 

the  Reverend  B ...  I  aloft,  to  Mickleham  Downs, 

where  the  great  herded  yews  stand  on  a  pure  snowfield. 
I  thought  to  have  fallen  on  the  very  throne  of  Silence. 
In  a  few  paces  I  became  a  Druid.  Time  withered  from 
the  ends  and  all  his  late  writings  were  smudged  out,  till 
I  lived  but  in  the  earlier  days  of  Britain,  when  he  with 
difficulty  made  his  mark.  It  was  a  sublime  scene,  that 
long  roll  of  the  unfooted  snow,  with  the  funeral  black 
plumes  of  the  yews  spreading  in  a  dumb  air,  as  if  aU 
had  ceased,  or  nothing  was  begun.  Embraced  by  it,  my 
spirit  conjured  up  a  passionate  desire  to  snowball  Tuck, 
till  he  cried  himself  a  sinner.  I  moaned  that  the  man 
was  not  there,  that  I  might  snowball  him,  till  fainting 
he  dropped  to  earth. 

Eh  !  What  a  change  of  the  course  of  our  fortunes. 
Tuck  !  I  am  married,  and  thou  Lord  of  Norbiton,  and 
all  these  things  were  dreamed  not  a  year  back.  Where- 
fore must  I  think  truly  there  is  a  Spirit  and  a  peculiar 
Spirit,  to  the  new  year,  and  I  greet  you  and  wish  well  to 
you  and  yours  (who  also  are  mine)  in  the  year  to  come. 

To  the  Rev.  Augustus  Jessopp. 

Gakrick  Club,  Autwnn  1864  (7). 
My    dear    Jessopp, — .   .   .  The    '  Fine    Arts '    and 
*  Laurence  Sterne  '  await  you,  just  unpacked.     Classical 


LETTERS  OF  GEORGE  MEREDITH         165 

books  have  no  chance  with  Chapman  &  Hall — and  Oli, 
the  Catullus  !  Which  is  in  another  box,  and  which  I 
want  to  put  my  hand  to  before  you  print  it. 

.  .  .  Have  you  heard  that  the  Countess  Guiccioli  has 
two  continuation  cantos  of  Don  Juan,  and  means  to 
publish  them  ?  Likewise  more  of  Byron  ! — He  's  abused, 
so  I  take  to  him  ;  and  I  'm  a  little  sick  of  Tennysonian 
green  Tea.  I  don't  think  Byron  wholesome — exactly,  but 
a  drop  or  so — Eh  ?  And  he  doesn't  give  hmp,  lacka- 
daisical fishermen,  and  pander  to  the  depraved  senti- 
mentalism  of  our  drawing-rooms.  I  tell  you  that '  Enoch 
Arden  '  is  ill  done,  and  that  in  twenty  years'  time  it  will 
be  denounced  as  villanous  weak,  in  spite  of  the  fine 
(but  too  conscious)  verse,  and  the  rich  insertions  of 
tropical  scenery.  Now,  then  ! — are  we  face  to  face, 
foot  to  foot  ? — Forgues  is  translating  '  Emilia  '  (some- 
what condensed)  very  well  in  the  '  Revue  des  deux 
Mondes.'   .   .   . 


To  Captain  Maxse. 

Garrick  Club,  Jan.  14,  1865. 

My  dear  Fred, — .  .  .  It  was  my  intention  to  write 
the  Verses  at  Ploverfield.  I  will  write  and  send  them 
— that  is,  if  you  agree  with  my  view. 

Verses,  because  they  fix  a  child's  memory  and  remain 
with  him,  and  become  a  part  of  his  child's  understanding 
of  reverence,  perforce  of  the  music,  and  necessitate 
simplicity  of  expression. 

I  hold  to  the  word  *  Father.'  No  young  child  can 
take  the  meaning  of  '  Spirit.'  You  must  give  him  a 
concrete  form,  or  he  will  not  put  an  idea  in  what  he  is 
uttering.  He  must  address  some  body.  Later,  when 
he  throws  off  his  childishness,  he  will,  if  you  are  watching 
and  assisting  him,  learn  to  see  that  he  has  prayed  to  no 


166         LETTERS  OF  GEORGE  MEREDITH 

false  impersonation  in  addressing  an  invisible  '  Father.' 
If  you  do  otherwise  than  this  you  are  in  danger  (as  I 
think)  of  feeding  his  mouth  with  empty  words. 

Of  Creed  not  a  syllable. 

Now  let  me  ask  you  for  a  piece  of  advice.  Marie  and  I, 
following  your  example,  are  abjuring  (we  follow  it  ten- 
tatively) alcohohc  liquor.  We  find  the  water  dreadfully 
cold,  though  one  pledges  Purcell !  and  the  other  Fred  ! 
We  suppose  that  we  shall  get  used  to  it,  as  you  and  your 
Water-God  have  done.  But  now  our  water-pipes  are 
frozen.  We  have  nothing  to  drink.  Please  what  are 
we  to  do  ?     Answer  before  we  choke. — Ever  your  loving 

George  Meredith. 

To  the  Rev.  Augustus  Jessopp. 

The  Cedars,  Jan.  30,  nigJit,  1865. 

No,  my  dear  Jessopp  :  for  this  there  is  no  necessity. 
But,  hear  !  the  man  went  and  got  married  :  it  was  well 
for  him  :  he  bought  linen,  ho  bought  plate,  disbursed 
early  and  eke  late  :  the  fat  end  of  his  purse  did  set 
flowing  towards  his  fireside,  and  the  lean  was  to  them  that 
did  accredit  him.  So.  And  meantime,  in  prospect  of 
the  needful,  he  put  aside  '  Vittoria '  (which  contains 
points  of  grandeur  and  epical  interest)  to  '  finish  off  ' 
Rhoda  Fleming  in  one  volume,  now  swollen  to  two — and 
Oh,  will  it  be  three  ?— But  this  is  my  D'  D'-  D'  un- 
certain workmanship.  You  see,  I  am  three  days  in  town, 
and  I  am  hustled  with  moving  and  can't  get  my  shoulders 
into  a  place,  but  the  toe  of  Fate  talces  me  somewhat 
lower  and  away  I  go  ;  and  this  is  not  favourable  to  com- 
position, though  my  dear  wife  does  all  that  she  can  for 
me,  and  would  hush  the  elements,  bidding  them  laiow 
me  pen  in  hand.  However,  I  hope  in  six  weeks  to  be 
clear  of  Miss  Rhoda,  into  whose  history  I  have  put  more 


LETTERS  OF  GEORGE  MEREDITH         167 

work  than  she  deserves.  I  wrote  in  saddest  spirits, 
rare  with  me.  Stomach,  my  friend.  I  am  not  in  the 
bracing  air  which  befits  me.  But,  in  future  I  will  bo 
punctual.  By  degrees  I  will  reduce  the  portentous  0.  U.'s. 
And  I  thanlc  you  with  all  my  heart  for  the  friendly  peace- 
breathing  letter.  It 's  precious  balm  to  read. — '  Vittoria  ' 
is  one  third  towards  completion.  Did  you  see  the  trans- 
lation of  '  Emilia,'  by  Forgues,  condensed,  in  the  '  Revue 
des  Deux  Mondes '  ?  He  has  apparently  taken  to  me  ; 
he  sent  for  Rd.  Feverel  to  review.  A  New  Edition  of 
*  Shagpat,'  with  an  illustration  to  '  Bhanavar  '  by  Sandys, 
comes  out  in  a  month. — Marie  has,  I  believe,  written 
fully  anent  the  Son.  We  mourn  and  howl  over  him — 
When  are  we  four  to  meet  again  ?  You  see,  there  is  a 
new  witch  now,  and  she  's  a  darling. — Adieu,  for  a 
space  ! — I  am  your  loving  George  Meredith. 


To  William  Hardman. 

April  19,  1865. 

Dear  Sir, — Am  I  to  be  damned  to  all  eternity  because 
I  curse  at  a  vile  organ  now  afflicting  me  with  the  tune  of 
Jack  Robinson,  presently  to  be  followed  by  the  100th 
Psalm,  and  the  simulation  of  the  groans  of  a  sinner. 

Perhaps  you  will  put  this  before  your  reverend  friend. 
But  are  you  not  to  be  damned  in  the  present  for  permit- 
ting the  infliction,  and  not  at  least  commanding  a  fresh 
importation  of  organs  into  Kingston,  and  the  exit  of 
the  old. 

This  is  a  matter  for  you  to  reflect  upon. — I  am,  dear 
sir,  even  as  a  Chestnut  on  the  Hob,  your  bursting 

Author. 


168        LETTERS  OF  GEORGE  MEREDITH 

To  Captain  Maxse. 

Kingston,  1865. 

My  dear  Fked, — Great  thanks  for  the  game  decorating 
our  larder. — ^Miss  Longworth  ^  has  something  to  complain 
of,  and  I  thinkDr.  Hunter ^  an  e£Fronte  Yankee.  But  surely 
you  admit  that  British  Juries  are  commonly  sentimental 
to  an  infinite  degree  in  favour  of  the  protesting  female  ? 
The  late  verdicts  are  merely  a  reaction. — I  must  tell  you 
that  I  am  becoming  an  admirer  of  President  Johnson. 
And  have  you  seen  the  Book  called  Sherman's  great 
March  ?  If  you  get  it,  examine  the  heads  of  his  Generals. 
They  are  of  a  peculiarly  fine  cast  and  show  the  quafities 
of  energy  and  skill,  and  also  race.  They  are  by  no 
means  vulgar.  Place  our  best  men  (headed  by  the  Duke 
of  Cam)  alongside  them,  and  start.  The  contrast  will 
not  be  flattering  to  us. — Hawthorne  has  just  the  pen  to 
fascinate  you.  His  deliberate  analysis,  his  undramatio 
representations,  the  sentience  rather  than  the  drawings 
which  he  gives  you  of  his  characters,  and  the  luscious, 
morbid  tone,  are  all  effective.  But  I  think  his  delinea- 
tions untrue  :  their  power  lies  in  the  intensity  of  his 
egotistical  perceptions,  and  are  not  the  perfect  view 
of  men  and   women. — Goethe's  elective  Affinities — the 

^  Maria  Theresa  Longworth  (71832-1881),  authoress,  and  plaintiff  in 
the  Yelverton  case.  In  the  summer  of  1852  she  was  introduced  to 
William  Charles  Yelverton,  afterwards  Viscount  Avonmore.  In  1855 
she  accepted  his  proposal  of  marriage,  and  though  the  engagement 
was  for  a  time  suspended,  on  April  12,  1857  Yelverton  read  aloud  the 
Anglican  marriage  service  at  IMLss  Longworth's  lodgings  in  Edinburgh, 
and  they  wore  afterwards  married  at  the  Roman  Catholic  chapel  at 
Rostrovor  in  Ireland,  and  lived  together  both  in  Ireland  and  Scotland. 
On  June  2G,  1858,  Yelverton  formally  married  the  widow  of  Professor 
Edward  Forbes,  and  on  October  31,  1859  MLss  Longworth  sued  him  for 
restitution  of  conjugal  rights.  She  failed  to  win  her  case  then,  and 
though  the  Irish  court  upheld  her,  the  Scottish  and  English  courts 
declared  against  her. 

*  Dr.  Robert  Hunter,  who  brought  an  action  for  Ubel  against  the 
Pall  Mall  Oazette,  Nov.  10,  18G5.  He  won  his  case :  damages  one 
farthing. 


LETTERS  OF  GEORGE  MEREDITH         169 

Wahlvenvandtschaften — would  delight  you,  as  they  have 
nourished  Hawthorne. — I  wish  I  were  going  to  meet  you 
at  Lord  Hardwicke's.  I  like  my  Lord. — I  am  very  hot 
upon  '  Vittoria.'  Lewes  says  it  must  be  a  success  ;  and  it 
has  my  best  writing.  I  fancy  I  begin  in  the  '  Fortnightly ' 
in  February.  Perhaps  I  have  given  it  too  historical  a 
character  to  please  the  brooding  mind  of  Fred.  But, 
we  shall  see.  I  think  one  must  almost  love  Italy  to  care 
for  it  and  the  heroine.  There  are  scenes  that  will  hold 
you  ;  much  adventure  to  entertain  you  ;  delicate  bits 
and  fiery  handling.  But  there  is  no  tender  dissection, 
and  the  softer  emotions  are  not  kept  at  half  gasp  upon 
slowly-moving  telescopic  objects,  with  their  hearts  seen 
beating  in  their  frames. — Marie  thanks  you  warmly  for 
the  monograms,  which  are  doubtless  very  pretty  jugglery 
and  show  how  one  M  can  stand  on  the  head  of  another 
and  have  W  interlacing  his  legs — like  a  basketful  of 
lampreys. — Give  my  love  to  the  boys  and  make  Freddy 
remember  me.  I  kiss  your  Cecilia's  fingers,  and  am 
ever  your  loving  friend,  George  Meredith. 


To  Captain  Maxse. 

MiCKLEHAil,  1865. 

My  dear  Fred, — It  will  annoy  and  astound  you  to 
hear  that  I  consider  Bixio  brave  and  constant,  though 
I  question  whether  much  is  gained  by  any  individual 
action  before  there  is  cause  for  general  discontent. 
Merely  to  deny,  is  not  to  show  a  love  for  truth.  It  shows 
fanaticism — which  is  evidently  what  dehghts  you  so 
much.  The  fanatical  worship  of  truth  will  always  be 
fruitless  :  it  is  nothing  better  than  the  embracing  of  a 
phantom.  For,  what  is  Truth  ?  Bixio  could  state 
nothing.  He  fires  a  sounding  shot  while  there  is  peace, 
and  against  a  superstition  which,  in  the  present  day, 


170         LETTERS  OF  GEORGE  MEREDITH 

rather  averts  intolerance  than  invokes  it.     What  I  ven- 
ture to  say  is,  Live  on  and  be  placable  under  some  trifling 
irritation,  till  men  are  near  a  majority  (or  nearer  to  one) 
in  contempt  of  imposture  ;    or  till  the  apprehension  of 
priests  prompt  them  to  commence  their  old  game.     At 
that  hour  is  time  enough  for  us  to  think  of  action.     A 
tyro  in  conspiracy  will  tell  you  that  these  isolated  pro- 
tests never  exist.     Some  (miserable  philosophers)  have 
said  that  they  owe  their  origin  to  vanity.     I  am  not  quite 
of  that  opinion.     It  is  worthy  of  your  school  to  rush  at 
once  on  a  presumption  that,  as  I  differ  from  you,  I  must 
be  a  time-server.     The  Faggot-and-Torture  priests  said 
likewise — '  If  not  for,  against  us.'     You  appear  to  me 
to  want  to  raise  up  an  extreme  party  that  shall  rouse 
the  other  party  to  extremes,  and  so  do  battle-fight  for 
a  shade  ;  gain  what  Time  would  have  given  you  without 
waste  of  blood,  temper,  and  divine  meditation.     Between 
you  Philosophy  would  have  no  home  on  our  planet. 
You  presume  moreover  to  declare  yourself  as  if,  per- 
ceiving a  system  to  be  faulty,  it  was  an  imperative  duty 
to  explode  every  shred  of  it  to  the  winds.     You  must 
bear  in  mind  that  Christianity  will  always  be  one  of  the 
great  chapters   in  the   History  of  Humanity  :    that  it 
fought  down  brutishness  :    that  it  has  been  the  mother 
of  our  civilization  :  that  it  is  tender  to  the  poor,  maternal 
to  the  suffering,  and  has  supphed  for  most,  still  supplies 
for  many,  nourishment  that  in  a  certain  state  of  the 
intelligence    is    instinctively    demanded.     St.    Bernard 
checked  Abelard,  it  is  true.     But  he  also  stood  against 
the  French  Barons,  rebuked  and  controlled  them.     The 
Church  was  then  a  Light.     Since  it  did  such  a  service  to 
men,  men  I  think  should  not  stand  out  against  it  without 
provocation. — You  speak,  my  dear  Fred,  of  '  the  deepest 
questions  of  life.'     They  are  to  bo  thought  over  very 
long  and  very  carefully  before  they  are  fought  over.     I 


LETTERS  OF  GEORGE  MEREDITH         171 

cannot  think  that  men's  minds  are  strong  enough,  or 
their  sense  of  virtue  secure,  to  escape  from  the  tutelage 
of  superstition  in  one  form  or  another,  just  yet.  From 
the  Pagan  divinity  to  the  Christian,  I  see  an  advanced 
conception,  and  the  nearer  we  get  to  a  general  belief  in 
the  abstract  Deity — i.e.  the  more  and  more  abstract,  the 
nearer  are  men  to  a  comprehension  of  the  principles 
(morality,  virtue,  etc.)  than  which  we  require  nothing 
further  to  govern  us. — I  write  expecting  dinner  bell. — 
As  regards  Hawthorne,  little  Meredith  admits  that  your 
strokes  have  truth.  I  strive  by  study  of  humanity  to 
represent  it :  not  its  morbid  action.  I  have  a  tendency 
to  do  that,  which  I  repress  :  for,  in  delineating  it,  there 
is  no  gain.  In  all  my,  truly,  very  faulty  works,  there  is 
this  aim.  Much  of  my  strength  Hes  in  painting  morbid 
emotion  and  exceptional  positions  ;  but  my  conscience 
will  not  let  me  so  waste  my  time.  Hitherto  consequently 
I  have  done  nothing  of  mark.  But  I  shall,  and  'Vittoria' 
will  be  the  first  indication  (if  not  fruit)  of  it.  My  love 
is  for  epical  subjects — not  for  cobwebs  in  a  putrid  corner  ; 
though  I  know  the  fascination  of  unravelling  them. 
'Vittoria'  begins  in  the  'Fortnightly'  on  February  1st,  if 
not  Jany.  15th. 


To  Captain  Maxse. 

Kingston,  Friday,  1865. 

My  dear  Fred, — I  look  over  your  recent  letters  (your 
pertinacious  defence  of  your  untenable  position  and 
ingenuous  affectation  of  a  triumph  being  amusing  to 
me)  and  find  questions  I  have  not  answered. 

A  man  named  Greenwood,  newly  eltd.  to  the  Garrick, 
is  the  Editor  of  'PaU  Mall.'— The  'bar  of  Michael  Angelo'i 
has  puzzled  hundreds.     I  can't  attempt  to  explain  it. 

^  Cf.  In  Meinoriam. 


172        LETTERS  OF  GEORGE  MEREDITH 

I  have  been  foolish  enough  to  thini:  that  it  must  mean 
a  pecuhar  girder-hke  hanging  brow  that  one  sees  on 
Buonarotti's  face.  Great  poets  attain  a  superior  lustre 
by  these  obscurities.  If  I  had  written  such  a  line,  what 
vehement  reprobation  of  me  from  Ploverfield !  what 
cunning  efforts  to  construe  !  and  finally  what  a  lecture 
on  my  wilfulness  !  In  Tennyson  it  is  interesting.  In 
Browning  you  are  accustomed  to  gnaw  a  bone  and  would 
be  surprised  to  find  him  simple.  But  G,  M.  who  is  not 
known,  not  acknowledged,  he  shall  be  trounced  if  he 
offers  us  a  difficulty — we  insist  upon  his  thinking  in  our 
style.  Very  well,  Fred.  I  am  used  to  it. — No,  I  hate 
the  black  East,  and  I  don't  like  the  frost ;  I  Uke  nothing 
in  Kingston.  But  I  envy  you  the  fine  S.  W.  now  showing 
soft  white  and  blue,  and  taking  you  in  its  arms.  Adieu  ; 
mark  two  or  three  points  (a  few  will  serve)  in  my  advice 
to  you  from  time  to  time,  and  note  and  communicate 
your  sensations  when  at  last  you  appreciate  and  adopt 
them — for  scientific  purposes  ;  not  for  my  satisfaction  at 
all. — Ever  your  friend,  George  M. 


To  Captain  Maxse^ 

1865. 
In  re  Bixio?- 

Dearest  Fred, — There  is  no  such  thing  as  a  sum 

^  Girolamo  Nino  Bixio,  born  at  Chiavari  near  Genoa  in  1821.  He 
enlLstod  in  the  Sardinian  marine  service  soon  after  1835,  and  remained 
in  it  till  184G.  In  1848  ho  shared  in  the  revolutionary  excitement, 
enrolled  himself  as  a  volunteer,  and  took  part  in  the  defence  of 
Viconza  and  of  Venice.  In  the  following  year  he  wa.s  severely  wounded 
in  the  defence  of  Rome.  After  rendering  other  services  under  Garibaldi 
to  the  cause  of  Italian  Liberation,  he  took  command  of  the  vessels  in  the 
expedition  of  18G0,  and  at  Marsala  led  one  of  the  battalions  of  volunteers. 
He  was  the  second  of  '  the  Thousand.'  Ho  held  chi'»f  command  in  the 
battle  on  the  Volturno,  and  there  defeated  the  Noppolitan  troops  in 
their  attempt  to  surround  Garibaldi.  At  the  close  of  the  war  he  entered 
the  Italian  army.     He  died  in  1873  in  the  East  Indies. 


LETTERS  OF  GEORGE  MEREDITH         173 

of  successive  protests  in  favour  of  Truth,  when  those 
protests  are  not  directed  by  wisdom.  Will  bawlings  in 
the  street  avail,  save  to  disturb  and  annoy  the  lieges  ? 
They  irritate  the  slumbering  dominant  party,  without 
strengthening  the  insurgent.  What  is  being  done  in 
the  '  Fortnightly,'  for  instance,  and  elsewhere,  is  effi- 
cacious, and  does  strengthen,  while  it  increases,  the 
silent  band.  Let  Philosophy  sap  the  structure  and  work 
its  way.  What  we  have  to  anticipate  is  this  :  There  is, 
and  will  further  be,  a  falling  off  of  the  educated  young 
men  in  seeking  an  establishment  as  Churchmen.  These 
are  highly  educated,  and  in  their  nature  tolerant.  They 
are  beginning  to  think  for  themselves,  and  they  give 
their  lives  to  other  matters.  The  Church  will  have  to 
be  recruited  from  a  lower,  a  more  illiterate,  necessarily 
a  more  intolerant  class.  These  will  find  themselves  at 
variance  with  their  intellectual  superiors,  and  in  self- 
defence  will  attempt  to  wield  the  Dogma  and  knock  us 
down  with  a  club.  In  about  twenty  years'  time  we 
may  expect  a  conflict  to  come.  If  in  the  meantime  we 
alarm  such  placid  fellows  as  we  see  in  the  clerical  robes, 
we  are  really  doing  Truth  no  service.  Objectless  (that  is, 
indistinct,  blind)  protests,  are  like  all  unseasonable  things, 
useless,  and  are  shelved  as  mother  nature  shovels  away 
the  dust  which  does  not  serve  her.  Let  Bixio  do  as 
pleases  him  ;  I  don't  complain  ;  I  say,  that  he  is  not  an 
example — except  for  a  constitutional  rebel,  and  he  is  a 
curiosity,  and  will  never  get  followers. 

In  reading  Carlyle,  bear  in  mind  that  he  is  a  humourist. 
The  insolence  offensive  to  you,  is  part  of  his  humour. 
He  means  what  he  says,  but  only  as  far  as  a  humourist 
can  mean  what  he  says.  See  the  difference  between 
him  and  Emerson,  who  is  on  the  contrary  a  philosopher. 
The  humourist,  notwithstanding,  has  much  truth  to 
back  him.     Swim  on  his  pages,  take  his  poetry  and  fine 


174        LETTERS  OF  GEORGE  MEREDITH 

grisly  laughter,  his  manliness,  together  with  some  splendid 
teaching.  It  is  a  good  set-off  to  the  doctrines  of  what  is 
called  the  '  Empirical  school.'  I  don't  agree  with  Carlyle 
a  bit,  but  I  do  enjoy  him. 

You  should  read  Lewes's  article  on  Comte  in  the 
'  Fortnightly  '  before  this  : — also  Harrison's  on  '  Co- 
operative labour.' 

Tell  me  what  you  think  of  *  Vittoria.'  Lewes  is 
enamoured  of  her.  I  know  the  workmanship  is  good. 
Further  I  am  unable  to  judge. 

As  regards  Gilmore's  house,  I  should  like  to  take  it. 
But  I  have  determined  to  save  up  and  put  by,  and  endure 
this  place  (if  possible)  for  the  three  years'  term.  And  when 
I  move  I  will  move  to  a  fixed  place.  Rich  men  may  be 
houseless  rovers  :  it  upsets  poor  ones.  Besides,  wives 
don't  like  foreign  houses  and  won't  let  their  hearts'  fibres 
cling  to  any  place  not  their  own — don't  you  know  that  ? 

Willie  Maxse  is  the  sweetest  blooming  little  man  in 
all  the  world — (Yes,  Mrs.  Fred,  in  all  the  world  !).  His 
ready  smile  is  lovely.  He  develops  splendidly,  and  on 
mere  mother's  milk.  Yet,  though  he  is  flourishing  so 
well  and  acts  like  clockwork,  we  have  a  throng  of  people 
saying,  *  Oh  !  he  must  be  fed  by  hand  as  well :  no 
mother  can  stand  it,  no  child  can  thrive,  etc'  ;  and  their 
own  children,  thus  according  to  their  system,  bottle  and 
biscuit  fed,  wheeze  and  cough  and  wake  of  nights  and 
have  convulsions — God  knows  what.  With  such  parents 
we  may  expect  fools  at  least  in  the  next  generation. 

I  trust  the  two  dear  lads  will  go  on  well.  Salute  Freddy 
from  me. — Your  affectionate  George  M. 


To  Captain  Maxse. 

Garrick  Clttb,  1865. 

My  dearest  Fred, — Let  him  be  your  lay  godson. 
As  regards  the  ceremony,  it  is  a  piece  of  the  old  secondary 


LETTERS  OF  GEORGE  MEREDITH         175 

barbaric  system  of  teaching  men  to  be  humane  ;  and  is 
of  the  same  class  as  Freemasonry,  in  which  you  bind 
yourself  to  help  a  man,  because  he  knows  how  to  press 
your  knuckles  in  a  particular  manner.  I  can't  bear 
asking  men  to  do  this  ;  but  I  do  wish  the  boy  to  have 
some  little  link  with  you,  such  as  your  name  will  give 
him. 

We  differ  in  our  spirit  of  objection  to  the  dominant 
creed :  but  I  suppose  that  twenty  years  hence  we  shall 
not  differ.  When  the  Ministers  of  Religion  press  on 
for  an  open  rupture  by  attempts  at  persecution,  it  will 
be  time  to  take  rank  under  colours  :  until  when  I  hold 
myself  in  reserve.  I  don't  want  the  day  to  be  advanced. 
I  think  you  altogether  too  impetuous  :  500  years  too 
fast  for  the  human  race  :  I  think  that  where  the  Christian 
Ministers  are  guilty  of  httle  more  than  boredom,  you 
have  got  them  in  a  state  of  perfection,  and  at  least  owe 
them  your  tolerance  for  theirs  : — And  so  I  shall  continue 
to  think  until  next  I  go  to  Church.     Adieu. 

To  G.  H.  Lewes.^ 

Kingston  Lodge,  Dec.  9,  1865. 

My  dear  Lewes, — I  shall  be  glad  to  make  over  to 
you  the  use  of  the  copyright  of  my  novel  '  Vittoria  '  for 
issue  in  the  '  Fortnightly  Review,'  in  consideration  of 
the  sum  of  £250  :  all  subsequent  rights  to  the  use  of  it 
being  reserved  by  myself.  Your  saying  '  write  to  me  ' 
did  not  seem  to  imply  '  write  immediately  or  there  will 
be  no  contract.'  In  fact,  I  supposed  you  were  careless 
about  any  stipulation  until  more  of  my  work  had  been 
submitted  to  you.  I  am  hard  at  it,  and  as  carefully  as 
possible.  Pardon  me,  if  my  apparent  neghgence  shall 
have  put  you  out.     I  thank  you  very  much  for  your  fore- 

*  The  friend  of  George  Eliot ;  then  editing  the  Fortnightly  Review. 


176        LETTERS  OF  GEORGE  MEREDITH 

going  letter,  which  quite  solves  my  difficulty,  and  settles 
the  matter  justly. — If  my  progress  seems  to  you  slow, 
remember  that  I  am  on  foreign  ground  and  have  to  walk 
warily.  I  read  a  good  deal  of  the  novel  to  Mdme.  Venturi 
the  other  day,  who  says  that  the  Italian  colouring  is 
correct. 


To  Captain  Maxse. 

KiKQSTON  Lodge, 
Kingston-on-1'hames,  S.W.,  Jan.  8,  1866. 

My  deak  Fred, — We  have  returned,  and  if  this  S.W. 
holds,  I  shall  rejoice  to  see  Ploverfield  on  Saturday.  But 
if  it  freezes  again  ?  Well,  you  shall  write  and  command. 
I  want  to  come. — I  certainly  think  that  prayer  is  good 
for  children.  It  is  good  even  after  the  period  when 
blind  reverence  ceases  to  be  fruitful — it  is  good  for  men. 
It  is  at  once  an  acknowledgment  of  some  higher  power  : 
it  rouses  up  and  cleanses  the  nature,  and  searches  us 
through  to  find  what  we  are.  Only,  the  praying  for 
gifts,  and  thanking  for  gifts,  is  really  damnable.  It 's 
like  treating  the  Lord  as  an  old  uncle.  A  child  should 
pray  in  verse — don't  you  think  so  ?  I  have  thought  of 
trying  to  write  a  morning  and  evening  song  for  Freddy. 
Say  if  you  care  to  have  them.  Arthur  used  to  repeat 
some  lines. 

Oh  !  I  quite  acknowledge  that  I  am  conquered  by 
you.  But  then,  I  never  attempted  to  get  the  better  of 
you.  The  more  you  flourish  the  prouder  I  am  of  my 
work,  and  if  you  prefer  to  give  your  gratitude  in  due  form 
to  a  medical  man,  I  don't  complain  ;  you  choose  the  least 
humiliating  alternative,  as  you  may  think.  There  was 
a  report  in  London  yesterday  that  you  had  given  up 
Meat.  I  hope  this  is  not  true,  though  I  know  I  used  to 
tell  you  that  we  consume  too  much  meat,  and  you  (I 
remember)  appeared  to  reflect  on  my  words.     The  deter- 


LETTERS  OP  GEORGE  MEREDITH         177 

mination  which  you  hinted,  that  you  would  by  and  by 
abstain  from  clothing  yourself,  will  not  I  trust  be  carried 
into  effect.  It  would  please  none  but  Monboddo's  ghost. 
I  have  in  fact  said  that  we  wear  too  much  clothing — still, 
Fred,  it  is  surely  an  excess  to  forswear  a  single  garment, 
and  rely  upon  hair  to  cover  your  body,  as  you  look  to 
impudence  to  protect  your  shivering  arguments  ! 

I  long  intensely  to  see  you  and  walk  with  you  :  and 
I  shall  correct  you  very  gently.  Don't  forget  that  mental 
arrogance  is  as  a  fiery  wine  to  the  spirit — a  little  of  it 
gives  a  proper  pride  :  but  you  carry  too  much.  Adieu. 
I  bow  to  your  Cecilia,  and  am  your  loving    George  M. 

To  Captain  Maxse. 

Kingston  Lodge,  April  25,  midnight,  1866. 

My  dearest  Fred, —  .  .  .  The  article  on  the  '  Tra- 
vailleurs  de  la  Mer  '  is  Morley's  ;  I  think  it  scarcely  does 
justice  to  the  miraculous  descriptive  power.  The  Storm 
is  amazing  :  I  have  never  read  anything  like  it.  It  is 
next  to  Nature  in  force  and  vividness.  Hugo  rolls  the 
sea  and  sweeps  the  heavens  ;  the  elements  are  in  his 
hands.  He  is  the  largest  son  of  his  mother  earth  in  this 
time  present.  Magnificent  in  conception,  unsurpassed — 
leagues  beyond  us  all — in  execution.  Not  (nur  Schade  !) 
a  philosopher.  There  's  the  pity.  With  a  philosophic 
brain,  as  well  as  his  marvellous  poetic  energy,  he  would 
stand  in  the  front  rank  of  glorious  men  forever. 

His  occasionally  dirty  speech  is  just  a  part  of  his 
grotesque  greatness.  It  costs  me  nothing  to  overlook 
it — especiall}^  in  this  age  of  satin. 

Fryston  is  the  dullest  house  with  the  dryest  company 
in  the  dismallest  country  I  have  ever  visited.  Houghton, 
of  course,  was  pleasant,  but  I  think  I  could  never  travel 
two  miles  to  go  there  again. 

VOL.  I. — M 


178        LETTERS  OF  GEORGE  MEREDITH 

.  .  .  Have  the  articles  in  the  '  Pall  Mall  G.'  on  coal 
and  England's  prosperity  made  you  a  trifle  uncomfort- 
able ? 

Gladstone's  behaviour  has  been  wretched. 

Doubtless  a  combative  Berkeley  would  have  supported 
him  in  spite  of  conscience.  I  can  hear  you  making  a 
short  speech  in  condemnation  of  the  Government  while 
you  promise  to  record  your  vote  in  its  favour.  Next  to 
fighting  the  world,  fighting  oneself  is  the  prime  luxury  ; 
and  to  put  yourself  in  such  a  position  that  you  will  have 
to  do  the  latter,  because  you  have  done  the  former,  is 
genius.  It  must  be  an  intense  grief  to  you  to  be  out  of 
Parliament  now. — I  take  no  interest  in  Reform.  I  see 
no  desire  for  it  below.  If  there  were,  I  would  give  it ; 
I  have  no  fear  of  Radicals.  Democracy  must  come, 
and  the  sooner  it  overflows  rulers  who  are  cowardly,  the 
better  for  all.  We  say — Democracy,  as  if  it  were  some 
deadly  evil ;  whereas  it  is  almost  synonymous  with 
Change.  Democracy  never  rests.  The  worst  of  it  is 
that  it  can  be  violent  in  its  motion.  To  you,  who  prefer 
the  Allopathic  system  of  medicine,  it  will  come  as  a 
natural  matter.  Good-night,  dear  Friend.  Write  to 
me,  and  often. 


To  Captain  Maxse. 

MiCKLEHAM,  June  8,  1866. 

My  dear  Feed, — Don't  think  I  desert  you.  The 
truth  is,  that  to  write  poHtics  satisfactorily,  one  must 
give  up  one's  time  to  the  study  of  poUtics — one  must  be 
in  the  thick  of  the  fight.  And  only  in  such  cases  can 
you  exact  from  Editors  a  proper  respect  for  you.  You 
must  prove  that  your  political  opinions  are  worth  having 
in  type,  or  be  so  useful  to  them  that  they  can't  refuse 
to  insert  them.     Now  Greenwood,  and  doubtless  our  B. 


LETTERS  OF  GEORGE  MEREDITH        179 

as  well,  don't  regard  me  as  a  political  writer,  so  I  am 
always  in  danger  of  slipping  into  the  waste-paper  basket, 
unless  I  write  review  or  essay.  They  rely  on  a  sufficient 
number  of  handy  men  to  supply  the  wants  of  their 
journals.  And  the  truth  is,  I  can  only  now  and  then 
afford  time  to  write  an  experimental  article  on  pohtics. 
When  my  last  debts  are  paid,  and  I  have  finished  my 
next  novel,  I  shall  have  a  free  hand.  I  'm  sure  you  don't 
suppose  that  I  willingly  abandon  you  to  your  fight. 
I  could  have  no  wish  but  to  stick  by  you,  and  the  more 
so  as  your  views  are  mine. 

Moreover,  Editors  object  to  articles  upon  subjects 
which  are  not  immediately  prominent.  I  tried  the 
*  Pall  Mall '  with  your  pamphlet,  but  Greenwood  was  in- 
different in  tone.  The  subject  will  revive  speedily,  but 
the  moment  it  lay  down  it  was  temporarily  dead  for 
Editors. — I  have  not  meant  to  say  I  will  not  write  unless 
I  see  my  pay — but  that  it 's  heart-breaking  to  feel  that 
I  have  given  up  my  time,  with  some  amount  of  ardour 
in  a  theme,  all  to  no  purpose  save  to  see  my  manuscript 
as  the  froth  tossed  up  from  the  wheel  of  an  Editorial 
mill. — But  surely,  even  though  you  should  feel  some 
disappointment  with  me,  you  accuse  my  circumstances 
more  than  me. — Adieu.  Your  sketch  of  the  Grebe  ^ 
flying  to  Havre  drives  me  mad.  I  hope  Mrs.  Fred  will 
enjoy  the  week  at  Ascot  and  have  the  long,  blooming 
holiday  thoroughly  due  to  her. — ^Your  loving 

George  Meredith. 

To  Miss  J E 

193  Piccadilly, 
London,  W.,  June  15,  1866. 

The   Reader  of  Miss  J H 's  tale  of  '  Anwyl 

Anwyl '  presents  his  compliments  to  her,  feehng  pro- 

^  Captain  Maxse's  cutter  yacht. 


180         LETTERS  OF  GEORGE  MEREDITH 

foundly  guilty — for  the  blame  of  this  long  delay  rests 
entirely  upon  him.  He  put  the  MS.  aside,  after  he  had 
read  it ;  his  intention  was  to  write  a  long  chapter  on 
what  to  write,  blot  and  avoid.     He  can  say  in  personal 

extenuation  that  Miss  H could  not  possibly  have 

made  any  '  commercial '  use  of  the  tale  ;  and  that  if 
she  had  published  it,  it  would  have  done  harm  to  her 
reputation. 

The  Reader  is  in  town  on  Thursday  next,  and,  if  it 

shall  please  Miss  H to  listen  to  a  few  of  his  critical 

objections  to  her  style,  perhaps  he  may  be  enabled  to 
do  her  more  good  in  that  direction  than  if  he  attempted 
to  write  them  down.  Therefore,  should  she  be  willing 
to  call  at  193  Piccadilly  on  Thursday  at  four  p.m.,  he 
will  endeavour  penitently  to  repair  his  shameful  behaviour. 
The  truth  is,  he  did  nothing  at  all,  because  of  his  having 
intended  to  do  so  much. 

If  Miss  H should  prefer  to  avoid  vocal  criticism  it 

shall  be  written  down,  but  it  will  possibly  not  be  so 
effective,  and  it  may  seem  more  severe. 

In  making  this  proposal,  the  Reader  has  taken  an 
unusual  course  by  which  he  trusts  to  be  able  to  show 
his  desire  to  expiate  his  previous  carelessness.  It  needs 
hardly  to  bo  said  that  obscurity  is  his  most  comfortable 
cloak,  whenever  he  undertakes  the  thankless  duty  of 
looking  at  a  MS. 

In  June  1866  Meredith  went,  on  behalf  of  the  Morning 
Post,  to  the  seat  of  war  in  Italy.  On  June  22  he  was  at 
Ferrara  with  Cialdini's  army  corps — at  Cremona  on  the  30th 
— at  Bozzolo,  the  headquarters  of  the  eleventh  division  of 
the  Italian  army,  on  July  3 — at  Mio  headquarters  of  the 
army  on  July  7  at  Torre  Malum berti — thence  he  moved  to 
the  new  headquarters  at  Piadena  and  on  to  Treviso.  He  left 
Italy  and  reached  Marseilles,  after  a  voyage  of  thirty-six 
hours,  on  July  24.    He  returned  to  Italy  in  the  following 


LETTERS  OF  GEORGE  MEREDITH         181 

month.  (See  Correspondence  from  the  Seat  of  War  in  Italy. 
Memorial  Edition  and  Edition  de  Luxe  of  the  works  of  George 
Meredith.) 


To  Tom  Taylor.^ 

MuLAN,  Se'pt.  10,  1866. 

My  dearest  Tom, — Bird  had  left  for  Ischl  when  your 
letter  reached  me  in  Vienna.  I  write  in  case  you  should 
see  Mowbray  Morris  and  have  favourable  news  to  com- 
municate to  say  that  my  address  will  be  for  the  next  six 
weeks  :  '  aux  soins  de  M.  Theodore  VuUiamy,  a  Nonan- 
court  (Eure),  France.' 

I  came  over  the  Semmering  to  Venice,  remained  there 
three  days  and  worked  my  way  through  Padua  and 
Vicenza  hitherwards,  where  from  the  upper  windows  of 
the  Hotel  Cavour  I  see  the  White  Alps.  Italy  is  where 
I  would  live  if  I  had  the  choice.  Here  I  am  so  happy 
that  I  only  want  my  wife  and  little  ones  with  me  to  wish 
for  nothing  further.  In  all  probability  I  shaU  be  back 
in  Venice  for  the  fetes,  if  the  delay  is  not  great.  The  Mg. 
Post  should  have  an  account  of  them.  Perhaps  Borth- 
wick  will  insist  on  my  doing  the  work,  and  I  shall  not  be 
sorry  ;  for  what  a  correspondent  wants  is  something  to 
describe,  and  not  to  continue  writing  about  nothing. 

Do  you  remember  the  Carpaccios  in  Venice  ?  Surely 
justice  is  not  done  to  his  extraordinary  sweetness  and 
richness.  If  I  did  not  love  Giorgione  and  Titian  so  much, 
I  should  rank  him  vciy  favourite.  His  faces  are  as  sweet 
as  Fra  Angelico's,  wdth  variety  and  humanity  superadded. 
The  Baptism  of  Christ  in  the  Church  of  San  Lorenzo, 
Vicenza,  by  Giov.  Bellini  is  the  only  Christian  head  of 

1  Tom  Taylor  (T.  T.  of  Meredith's  'To  a  Friend  Lost'),  editor  of 
Punch,  who  wrote  the  famous  lines  on  the  death  of  Lincoln  (April  14, 
1805),  *  You  Iny  a  wreath  on  murdered  Lincoln's  bier,'  for  which  ho 
received  the  thanks  of  Congress. 


182        LETTERS  OF  GEORGE  MEREDITH 

the  Saviour  that  I  have  ever  seen.  I  dare  say  you  know 
it.  Curious  to  see  the  ebbing  of  the  Austrians  out  of  all 
this  district !  I  have  sent  the  •  Post '  some  letters,  but  I 
must  reduce  my  impressions  to  an  article. 

I  hope  very  much  that  the  *  Times '  will  take  me  on. 
In  a  settled  position  (I  wish  it  were  in  Italy),  and  with 
command  of  news,  or  the  sources  of  it,  I  believe  I  should 
show  the  requisite  judgment.  Adieu,  my  dear  Tom. 
If  there  is  anything  I  can  do  for  you  in  North  Italy,  write 
immediately  to  the  *  Hotel  Cavour,  Milan.'  If  you  won't 
hke  '  Vittoria '  (pure  obstinacy  or  base  siding  with  the 
majority)  I  promise  you  quite  another  sort  of  next  novel. 
Kiss  your  little  girl  for  me  and  give  her  a  stranger's  love, 
and  God  bless  you  all. — I  am  your  affectionate 

George  Meredith. 

To  Algernon  Charles  Swinburne. 

Kingston  Lodge,  Kingston-on-Thames. 
My  dear  Swinburne, — *  Vittoria,'  as  I  am  told  by 
Chapman  and  others,  is  not  hked  ;  so  you  may  guess 
what  pleasure  your  letter  has  given  me.  For  I  have 
the  feeling  that  if  I  get  your  praise,  I  hit  the  mark.  It 
seems  that  I  am  never  to  touch  the  public's  purse.  Why 
will  you  content  yourself  with  only  writing  generously  ? 
Why  will  you  not  come  and  see  me  ?  My  wife  has  con- 
stantly asked  me  how  it  is  that  you  do  not  come.  Must 
I  make  confession  to  her  that  I  have  offended  you  ?  It 
is  difficult  for  me  to  arrange  for  spare  evenings  in  town  ; 
I  can't  leave  her  here  alone.  If  we  meet,  I  must  quit 
you  only  too  early.  I  wonder  whether  Sandys  would 
invite  us  to  dine  with  him  ;  when  we  might  have  one  of 
our  evenings  together,  and  come  to'  an  understanding 
about  future  evenings  at  Kingston.  I  will  speak  to  him 
on  that  head. — I  am  very  eager  for  the  poems.     The 


LETTERS  OF  GEORGE  MEREDITH         183 

promise  of  the  essay  on  Byron  makes  me  extremely 
curious,  for  though  I  don't  mistrust  your  estimation  of 
the  manhness  of  his  verse,  he  is  the  last  man  of  whom 
I  would  venture  to  foretell  your  opinion. — As  to  the 
Poems — if  they  are  not  yet  in  the  press,  do  be  careful 
of  getting  your  reputation  firmly  grounded  :  for  I  have 
heard  '  low  mutterings  '  already  from  the  Lion  of  British 
prudery ;  and  I,  who  love  your  verse,  would  play 
savagely  with  a  knife  among  the  proofs  for  the  sake  of 
your  fame  ;  and  because  I  want  to  see  you  take  the  first 
place,  as  you  may  if  you  will, — ^Apropos,  what  do  you 
think  of  Buchanan's  poetry  ?  Lewes  sends  him  up  I 
don't  know  how  high.  My  feeling  is  that  he  is  always  on 
the  strain  for  pathos  and  would  be  a  poetic  Dickens. 
But  I  can't  judge  him  fairly,  I  have  not  read  his  book. 
Adieu.  Remind  Moxon  of  the  Byron,  and  write  to  me 
again. — I  am  ever  your  faithful    Geokge  Meredith. 


To  Captain  Maxse. 

Kingston  on  Thames,  S.W.,  1866. 

My  dearest  Fred, — I  was  too  late  for  the  post  yester- 
day, but  you  know  how  such  good  news  will  have  glad- 
dened me. 

Our  Willie  Maxse  is  quite  charming  ;  he  is  healthy 
and  spirited,  and  very  intelligent.  You  should  see  his 
face  when  he  is  laughed  at.  His  sense  of  humour,  with  a 
momentary  disgust  at  finding  himself  the  mark  for  it  in 
others,  produces  the  most  comical  expression  possible. 
Marie  says  she  can  understand  some  dehght  in  welcoming 
a  boy  ;  but  a  girl !  who  would  care  for  a  girl ! 

The  system  by  which  you  are  correcting  your  troubled 
physical  condition  is,  I  am  sure,  sound.  To  a  strong 
stomach  occasional  draughts   of  wine   do   good   rather 


184        LETTERS  OF  GEORGE  MEREDITH 

than  harm.  Our  fault  is  to  eat  in  excess  while  we  drink 
wine  as  well.  One  dish  and  one  pint  of  wine,  old  and 
sound,  go  harmoniously,  but  wine  should  be  treated  as 
a  luxury. — I  agree  with  your  practical  deductions,  at 
the  same  time,  I  note  with  dismay  your  tendency  to 
extremes.  You  are  right  just  now.  Nevertheless  you 
must  needs  lay  down  positive  principles  as  if  your  exist- 
ing state  were  the  key  of  things.  You  will  become  a 
fanatical  Retired  Admiral  advocating  Maine  Liquor  laws 
for  every  natural  appetite  on  earth,  and  dogmatically 
refusing  to  hear  an  opinion.  I  foresee  it, — ^unless  you 
can  be  humble  while  there  's  yet  time,  and  admit  that 
I  am  right,  who  preach  moderation,  and  you  are  wrong, 
who  raise  the  banner  of  Abstinence  with  all  its  tissue  in 
tatters. — I  dare  say  you  will  continue  to  deny  that  it  was 
I  who  gave  you  the  good  advice  months — years  back. 
And  then  probably  when  we  are  old  men  you  will  consent 
to  my  saying  it  was  I  who  did  it.  Dogmatism  con- 
founded in  the  last  crisis  escapes  by  a  quibble  !  How 
much  better  to  take  a  manly,  modest  view  of  a  friend's 
deserts  : — I  do  congratulate  you  with  all  my  heart  on  your 
prospect  of  recovery,  which  I  think  clear.  Only,  I  am 
amused  at  the  physiological  lecture.  Why,  I  have  said 
as  much  a  hundred  times  !  But  you  now  turn  round, 
and  with  supernatural  force  hurl  my  own  wisdom  at 
me,  and  say,  Read  that !  Surely  the  ai^gumentative 
virus  was  never  more  wonderfully  displayed.  If  the 
trick  is  old,  it  is  at  any  rate  uncommonly  well  managed  : 
and  no  doubt  almost  unconsciously.  Confess  to  my 
value  in  one  bright  instance,  and  even  you  would  hardly 
be  able  to  stand  against  me  in  other  matters,  so,  to  main- 
tain your  antagonism,  you  affect  an  air  of  total  inde- 
pendence.    Such  tactics  will  serve  you  well  in  the  House 

of  Commons. — What  do  you  think  of  Lieutenant  B ? 

He  seems  to  be  the  victim  of  a  poor  education  and  a  super- 


LETTERS  OF  GEORGE  MEREDITH         185 

fluifcy  of  red  pepper.  Still,  I  don't  like  to  see  all  the 
English  Press  down  on  him,  for  he  's  a  boy,  and  isn't  it 
rather  hard  to  break  him  for  writing  insolent  letters  to 
an  M.P.  ?  Wouldn't  it  be  sufficient  to  degrade  him  in 
rank,  as  he  is  already  in  reputation  ? — But  when  our 
Press  is  unanimous,  I  am  always  against  it.     Our  Press 

was  unanimous  in  favour  of  Lieutenant  P till  he 

showed  too  unmistakeably  as  a  low  dog. — Borthwick 
starts  to-day  for  Marseilles,  thence  with  Sir  Henry 
...  to  Malta,  to  Tunis,  to  Spezzia,  to  Rome,  to  Nice 
— et  vogue  les  papillons ! — Adieu,  dear  friend ;  I  don't 
like  to  leave  off  talking  to  you. — Your  ever  loving 

George  M. 

To  Captain  Maxse. 

The  Old  House,  Mickxeh^vm, 
Dorking,  Dec.  22,  1866. 

My  dear  Fred, — I  cannot  accept  the  illustration  of 
the  mackerel.  It  is  ingenious,  and  no  more  ;  though 
it  may  be  praised  for  throwing  a  side  light  on  the  mental 
characteristics  of  the  discoverer.  If  you  had  always 
turned  sick  at  the  smell  of  wine,  to  force  you  to  drink 
any  wine  would  be  cruel  and  wrong.  If  half  a  mackerel 
were  daily  plumped  down  the  throat  of  a  man  who  had 
never  in  his  life  taken  10  ft  of  mackerel  per  diem,  it 
would  be  monstrous  to  subject  him  to  the  meal.  But 
if  he  has  eaten  much  mackerel — too  much — there  is 
(supposing  virtues  to  exist  in  mackerel  as  in  wine)  no 
harm  in  asking  him  to  take  a  Httle,  from  time  to  time. 
I,  for  instance,  should  say  to  him — '  The  10  lb  a  day 
were  a  poison  to  you  ;  but  that  is  no  reason  why  the 
occasional  half  mackerel  should  be  the  same.  You 
fancy  it,  because  one  excess  begets  the  conception  of 
another  :  you  have  become  the  victim  of  a  kind  of 
mental  elephantiasis — ^you  fancy  all  things  as  immen- 


186        LETTERS  OF  GEORGE  MEREDITH 

sities  ;  you  cannot  understand  the  value  of  an  inter- 
mediate measure.  I  warned  you  again  and  again  that 
10  lb  of  mackerel  per  diem  was  excessive,  etc.,  but 
mackerel  is  nourishing.  Really,  Fred,  I  have  driven 
you  hard  to  make  you  fall  back  on  the  mackerel  argu- 
ment— Mackerel  is  poison  to  some,  ergo,  wine,  which  is 
likewise  poison  to  some,  should  be  similarly  avoided. 
But  I  tell  you  that  Mackerel,  if  hurtful  to  any  consti- 
tution, shows  itself  noxious  from  the  first  and  won't  be 
taken.  And  if  wine  is  really  bad  for  you,  a  glass  would 
originally  have  inspired  you  with  all  the  wisdom  you 
insist  on  having  gained  for  yourself  in  contempt  of  your 
best  advisers  now.  On  the  contrary,  wine  has  never 
poisoned  you,  but  a  wilful  resolve  to  take  as  much  as 
you  pleased  of  it  (do  you  remember  Cherbourg,  where 
you  would,  despite  an  agony  of  protestation  from  me, 
order  and  drink  a  bottle  of  Burgundy  at  a  third-rate 
Norman  provincial  hotel) — that  has  done  the  work  of 
poisoning  your  health.  At  this  festive  season,  my  dear 
Fred,  one  reflects  on  your  fearful  relapse  from  clear  and 
eminent  sense,  with  a  melancholy  deeper  than  wrath.  I 
know  what  is  coming  next.  I  have  anticipated  it  and 
written  it  down.     I  will  mention  it  another  time. 

What  I  dread  most  is  that  you  are  by  these  still  degrees, 
as  it  were,  boiling,  or  simmering,  yourself  down  to  a  sort 
of  human  type,  and  engine.  When  you  think  you  think 
suddenly,  vehemently — with  the  force  and  swiftness 
of  a  meteor,  and  perhaps  with  the  result,  but  in  any  case 
your  apparent  incapacity  to  hsten  to  the  wisdom  thrust 
in  your  way,  is  fraught  with  incalculable  evils,  and  more 
and  more  I  feel  Fred  going  and  an  eccentric  Force  usurp- 
ing his  place.  I  will  allude  to  this  further  by  and  by. 
Do  you  feel  for  the  Pope  yet  ?  The  Holy  Father  is 
unfortunately  situated,  surely. — I  am  ever  yours, 

George  M. 


LETTERS  OF  GEORGE  MEREDITH        187 

N.B. — I  confess  I  have  written  without  consideration 
as  to  whether  it  is  kind  to  knock  over  the  theories  by 
which  you  assure  yourself  that  your  wildest  changes  of 
system  are  sound  and  admirable.  On  my  honour,  I  am 
careless  about  gratitude,  though  the  sight  of  ingratitude 
naturally  pains. 


To  Captain  Maxse. 

Kingston,  Jan.  17,  1867. 

My  dear  Fred, — Pardon  me — just  one  moment ;  you 
see,  I  turn  to  you  from  my  work  and  give  you  a  sheet 
that  should  have  formed  part  of  my  magnum  opus  : 
ice-water  is  not  wholesome.  Farmers  will  not  give 
frozen  water  to  their  cattle,  and  melted  ice,  to  be  drink- 
able, must  be  clean — a  thing  difficult  to  obtain.  But 
when  taken  it  should  be,  as  all  civilized  people  will  tell 
you,  partly  in  solution.  Ice,  but  not  ice-water,  is  a 
specific  for  indigestion,  though  one  to  be  rarely  used. 
Compelled  to  set  you  right ! 

I  think  that  you  take  a  philosophically  false  estimate 
of  a  child's  intelligence  and  nature.  He  retains  what  he 
learns  just  as  much  and  no  more  than  he  remains  what 
he  is.  Certain  mental,  and  physical,  food  is  necessary 
for  him.  Beware  of  training  him  to  scepticism  !  I  can't 
bear  to  think  of  a  boy  as  being  educated  in  opposition 
to  the  opinion  prevailing. — The  title  '  Father  '  really 
does  not  suggest  the  aspect  of  a  man  to  a  child's  imagina- 
tion, if  you  associate  it  with  prayer  to  an  Unseen  One. 
Neither  does  the  jingle  of  Nursery  Rhymes  destroy  his 
sense  for  the  pure  flow  of  good  verse.  The  prayer  you 
sketch  is  not  objectionable  ;  but  it  is  not  enough  to 
my  mind.  I  will  in  a  few  days  send  you  a  version.  I 
would  not  say  '  God,'  but  '  Father  of  aU  Good.'  The 
title  '  God  '  is  bestowed  by  a  child  (in  obedience  to  the 


188         LETTERS  OF  GEORGE  MEREDITH 

inquiries  he  has  made)  on  him  who  rolls  the  thunder  and 
sends  the  currants  that  form  the  pudding.  He  may  always 
retain  this  notion.  I  am  sure  your  excellent  ]\Irs.  Lewis 
does,  perhaps  her  estimable  husband  likewise.  But  the 
'  Father  of  all  Good  '  soon  grows  to  mean  the  utmost  in 
the  regulated  mind  of  a  child.  I  am  afraid  I  can't  see 
how  a  child  is  to  pray  to  Jesus  Christ  as  Man  :  but  one 
may  teach  him  to  pray  to  be  likened  to  him  as  when 
he  walked  the  earth. — Ever  yours,  George  M. 


To  Algernon  Charles  Sivinburne. 

Kingston  Lodge, 
Kingston-on-Thames,  March  2,  1867. 

My  dear  SwmBURNE, — I  have  waited  to  read  the  Ode,^ 
and  also  to  ship  off  my  Arthur  for  Switzerland.  The 
Ode  is  the  most  nobly  sustained  Ijo-ic  in  our  language, 
worthy  of  its  theme.  Broader,  fuller  verse  I  do  not  know. 
I  had  a  glance  at  the  proofs,  and  my  chief  sentiment  was 
envy.  Now  I  can  read  without  that  affliction.  For 
me  there  will  never  be  time  given  even  to  try  the  rising 
to  such  a  song.  I  am  passionately  anxious  to  see  the 
*  Italy '  2  and  have  a  thousand  spirits  of  fancy  about  it. 
Let  me  know  when  you  return  to  town,  and  when  you 
will  come  and  pay  us  a  visit.  I  need  not  say  that  my 
wife  will  be  glad  to  see  you.  Has  she  not  fought  your 
battles  ?  I  was  in  Austria  when  the  heat  of  the  storm 
was  raging.  I  returned  from  Italy  in  the  winter  after  all 
was  over.  It  would  not  have  been  my  advice  to  you  to 
notice  the  reviewers  :  but  it 's  certainly  better  never  to 
keep  red-hot  shot  in  store,  and  perhaps  one  broadside 
in  reply  does  no  harm.     I  wish  rather  that  it  had  been 

*  '  Ode  on  Insurrection  in  Candia,' 
»  '  A  Song  of  Italy  '  (1867). 


LETTERS  OF  GEORGE  MEREDITH        189 

done  in  verse.  As  for  the  hubbub,  it  will  do  you  uo  harm, 
and  you  have  partly  deserved  it ;  and  it  has  done  the 
critical  world  good  by  making  men  look  boldly  at  the 
restrictions  imposed  upon  art  by  our  dominating  dam- 
nable bourgeoisie. — '  Vittoria  '  passes  to  the  limbo  where 
the  rest  of  my  works  repose.  You  alone  have  hit  on  the 
episode  of  the  Guidascarpi.  I  have  not  heard  or  seen 
another  mention  of  it.  I  would  have  carried  it  into  fulness, 
but  the  vast  machinery  pressed  on  me.  My  object  was 
not  to  write  the  Epic  of  the  Revolt — for  that  the  time  is 
yet  too  new :  but  to  represent  the  revolt  itself,  with  the 
passions  animating  both  sides,  the  revival  of  the  fervid 
Italian  blood  ;  and  the  character  of  the  people  :  Luigi 
Suracco,  Barto  Rizzo,  etc.  Agostino  Balderini  is  pur- 
posely made  sententious  and  humourously  conscious  of 
it :  Carlo  Ammiani  is  the  personification  of  the  youth 
of  Italy  of  the  nobler  sort.  Laura  Piaveni  and  Violetta 
d'Isorella  are  existing  contrasts. — I  am  afraid  it  must  be 
true  that  the  style  is  stiff  ;  but  a  less  condensed  would 
not  have  compassed  the  great  amount  of  matter. — I  see 
the  illustrious  Hutton  of  the  *  Spectator  '  laughs  insanely 
at  my  futile  effort  to  produce  an  impression  on  his  public. 
I  suppose  I  shall  have  to  give  up  and  take  to  journahsm, 
as  I  am  now  partly  doing. — ^Yes  !  if  you  could  get  a 
place  to  say  something  of  '  Vittoria ' !  Morley  stated  your 
suggestions  to  me,  and  appeared  willing  that  it  should  be 
done  in  the  '  Fortnightly,'  if  your,  or  some  such  good 
name  fathered  the  article.  But  his  opinion  is  that  it 
should  be  a  general  review  of  me  :  the  writer  could  dwell 
on  the  work  pleasing  him  best.  There  is  some  doubt 
about  giving  a  special  review  of  a  novel  that  has  appeared 
in  the  '  Fortnightly'  pages.  Adieu,  my  friend.  I  beg  you 
to  write  to  me,  as  I  have  requested.  Arthur  is  away,  by 
this  time  in  Berne.  What  is  the  address  of  Sandys  ? 
I  do  not  see  him  at  the  Garrick. — I  want  you  to  bring 


190        LETTERS  OF  GEORGE  MEREDITH 

Baudelaire  when  you  come  ;  and  anything  you  may 
think  of  besides,  in  the  way  of  verse.  I  am  being  carried 
ofif  from  the  Singing.  I  stand  on  an  inexorable  current. 
I  shall  look  forward  to  meeting  you  with  great  pleasure. 
— Your  faithful  and  affectionate    George  Meredith. 


To  Algernon  Charles  Siuiriburne. 

Garrick  Club,  Jan.  27,  1868. 

My  dear  Swinburne, — The  *  Fortnightly'  is  no  longer 
in  the  hands  of  a  company  but  of  a  publisher,  who  tries 
to  diminish  the  expenses  as  much  as  he  can  ;  the  editor 
being  the  chief  sufferer.  I  had  to  pay  for  the  two  poems. 
*  The  Halt  before  Rome '  has  evidently  been  omitted 
from  the  list  of  what  is  due  to  you.  When  I  see  Morley 
I  will  state  youv  complaints  to  him  :  but  from  the  sum 
he  gets  it 's  scarcely  possible  to  pay  more,  without  doing 
80  out  of  his  own  pocket.  It  will  grieve  him  as  it  does 
me  to  hear  that  you  are  dissatisfied. — I  received  for  my 
'  Phaethon  '  (about  150  hues)  £5. 

Do, — if  it 's  not  possible,  as  I  suppose,  to  buy  a  copy 
of  Hugo's  poem,  lend  it  to  me  for  a  day  or  two.  They  say 
that  Garibaldi  has  replied  to  it  in  verse. 

I  propose  to  come  and  lunch  with  you  some  afternoon. 
Will  you  have  me  ?  I  will  stay  from  two  or  three  to 
six,  and  if  we  are  alone,  we  will  give  and  take,  though  I 
shall  take  ten  times  the  worth  of  what  I  give. — I  have 
just  got  your  '  Blake.'  M.  Conway's  notice  of  it  in  the 
'  Fortnightly '  is  eulogistic,  but  whether  sufficient  and 
closely  and  warmly  critical  I  can't  yet  say.  My  wife 
and  WilHe  hope  to  greet  you  in  the  warm  Spring  days. — 
Yours  ever  faithfully,  George  Meredith. 


I  LETTERS  OF  GEORGE  MEREDITH        191 

To  Captain  Maxse. 

MiCKLEHAM,  Jan.  28,  1868. 

My  dearest  Fred, — Historicus  (on  board  his  Thames 
wherry)  completely  smashes  Seward  (in  his  Leviathan 
Monitor).! 

I  am  one  of  those  who  think  the  Monitor  would  sink 
the  wherry  in  an  engagement,  and  wish  to  silence  the 
conquering  sound  of  noisy  writers. 

If  the  spirit  of  the  nation  were  of  your  temper,  I  should 
counsel  Historicus's  show  of  independence  for  the  nation 
at  large.  Fred,  it 's  clear  there  's  no  such  spirit  now  in 
this  pot-belhed  country — none  of  it.  Bend,  while  you 
can  do  so  with  a  pretence  of  dignity.  I  declare  to  you, 
I  have  watched  the  changes  of  mood  in  the  Government, 
the  Journals — say,  the  people  :  and  I  have  seen  them 
moved  by  apprehension  and  by  panic,  and  by  nothing 
else  in  their  foreign  relations  ;  by  httle  else  in  their 
dealings  at  home.  The  aristocracy  has  long  since  sold 
itself  to  the  middle  class  ;  that  has  done  its  best  to 
corrupt  the  class  under  it.  I  see  no  hope  but  in  a  big 
convulsion  to  bring  a  worthy  people  forth.  The  monied 
class  sees  the  same,  and  reads  it — ^will  do  anything  to 
avoid  it — will  eat  Historicus's  words  and  him  rather 
than  accept  the  challenge  he  provokes.  You  are  misled 
by  your  natural  hot  chivalry,  and  don't  perceive  the 
humiliations  you  are  bringing  on. 

George  Meredith. 

1  This  refers  to  tho  controversy  over  the  Alabama  claims.  Historicus 
was  Sir  WilUam  Vernon  Harcourt.  Seward  was  Secretary  of  State  in 
President  Johnson's  cabinet.  In  1868  Lord  Stanley  expressed  a  will- 
ingness to  refer  the  Alabama  claims  to  arbitration ;  but  the  negotia- 
tions were  interrupted  by  the  demand  put  forward  by  Seward  that 
the  British  recognition  of  the  Southern  States  as  belligerents  should 
bo  taken  into  account  in  computing  the  damages. 


192    LETTERS  OF  GEORGE  :MEREDITH 

To  William  Hardman. 

Box  Hnx,  Jan.  31,  1868. 

Dearest  Tuck, — I  have  been,  so  please  your  Worship, 
hard  at  work,  old  boy,  or  I  should  have  written  to  your 
honourable  Bench. — Confound  this  reminiscence  of  your 
greatness  under  which  I  lived  three  whole  years  !  May 
it  please — no,  it  doesn't  please  you  nor  me  neither. 
Sooner  or  later,  as  Shirley  Brooks  says,  I  was  going  to 
write,  but  I  had  to  manage  the  '  Fortnightly  '  for  Morley 
during  his  absence  in  America,  and  that  with  incessant 
composition  and  pot-boilers  kept  my  hands  tied.  But 
I  am  training  my  toes  (first  and  second  of  right  foot)  to 
indite  epistles  and  'Ips.  Journal'  while  I  pursue  my  course 
complacently  above.  So  no  one  will  be  complaining, 
unless  it  be  Her  Majesty  ;  for  there  's  a  chance  that  in 
a  fit  of  distraction  I  may  stick  a  corn-plaster  on  the 
envelope  instead  of  a  Queen's  Head — a  horrible  thought 
and  an  abominable.  Right  so.  Tuck,  and  have  you  read 
England's  Book.^  It  sent  me  up  Box  Hill  dancing  a 
Tupper-jig. 

Oh,  Tuck !  What  is  mortal  splendour  after  all  ? 
There  may  be  Purgatory  for  thee  after  thou  hast  ceased 
to  plant  a  forefoot  on  the  necks  of  criminals — sniflSng  the 
incense  of  Kingstonian  praise.  Well,  pass  we  to  lighter 
themes.  Thine  ideas  are  those  of  the  Crowned.  I  am, 
I  was,  I  always  shall  be,  a  vagabond.  And  Heaven  must 
love  such  to  take  me  in.     This  is  veritably  as  I  state  it. 

Wilhe  Maxse  has  months  past  had  you  pointed  out 
to  him  (cap  on,  cigar  in  mouth,  cock  in  th'  eye — generally 
likerous  expression)  in  our  book  of  photographs.  He  was 
looking  at  it  yesterday,  and  coming  to  you,  he  cried, 
'  That 's    dear    Godpapa.'     He    flourishes.     Who    could 

'  My  Journal  of  Life  in  the  Highlands,  by  her  late  Majesty  Qucon 
Victoria. 


LETTERS  OF  GEORGE  IklEREDITH         193 

help  doing  so  here  ?  I  am  every  morning  on  the  top  of 
Box  Hill — as  its  flower,  its  bird,  its  prophet,  I  drop 
down  the  moon  on  one  side,  I  draw  up  the  sun  on  t'  other. 
I  breathe  fine  air.  I  shout  ha  ha  to  the  gates  of  the 
world.  Then  I  descend  and  know  myself  a  donkey  for 
doing  it.  Forsooth,  Tuck,  I  have  to  remain  in  harness  an 
unconscionable  time  (see  Poems  in  '  Macmillan,'  '  Fort- 
nightly,' 'Cornhiir  (to  come),  and  articles  in  '  M.  Post,' 
etc.  etc.,  and  my  desk  bursting  with  MSS.). 

Now  as  to  your  invitation.  I  '11  come  if  I  can,  and  I 
thinli  I  can.  I  have  to  put  off  a  pre-engagement  if 
possible.  You  will  see  me  (if  I  do  come,  as  I  hope)  about 
3  P.M.  Sunday.  I  can't  sleep  away  from  home,  as  it 
appears  to  upset  Marie,  and  we  have  not  yet  a  dog,  and 
do  on  the  left  side  lean  on  the  wilds,  where  there  are 
rabbits,  and  may  be  weasels.  So  to  soften  a  wife's 
imeasiness,  I  leave  Surbiton  9.10  that  night;  catch 
Wimbledon  10.1,  home  about  11.5  p.m. 

Norbiton,  I  salute  thee.  Tuck,  I  love  thee.  To  thy 
wife  my  amiablest  salutation,  and  as  affable  a  bow  as 
Briton  on  his  guard  dare  be  guilty  of  to  thy  fair  guest. — 
Thine,  G.  M.  of  Box  Hill. 

To  Arthur  G.  Meredith. 

Garrick  Club,  Feb.  8,  1868. 

My  dearest  Boy, — I  have  carried  about  this  piece  of 
Club  paper  for  a  fortnight,  having  been  intending  to 
commence  a  letter  to  you  there,  and  unable  either  to  do 
that  or  to  go  on  with  it  since.  My  time  is  occupied  with 
work,  and  I  am,  or  rather,  have  been,  much  distracted 
by  affairs.  My  two  months  down  with  Captain  Maxse 
was  a  dead  loss  of  time  to  me.^     I  never  regret  anything 

^  In  the  Southampton  election  of  1867  Captain  Maxse  stood  as 
Radical  candidate.  Meredith  was  an  active  worker  on  his  behalf.  Cf. 
Beauchamp^s  Career. 

VOL.  I. — N 


194        LETTERS  OF  GEORGE  MEREDITH 

I  am  able  to  help  him  in,  as  you  will  believe,  but  that 's 
another  matter.  We  were  badly  beaten  at  Southampton, 
but  I  think  it  will  be  proved  that  bribery  was  done  there. 
We  on  our  side  were  not  guilty  of  it,  I  know.  It  is  a 
very  corrupt  place.  It  has  been  found  by  experience  of 
the  enlarged  franchise  that  where  there  are  large  labouring 
populations  depending  upon  hire  (especially  in  a  corrupt 
and  languishing  town  like  Southampton)  they  will  be 
thrown  into  the  hands  of  the  unscrupulous  rich.  At 
all  events  this  is  one  of  the  evils  we  have  to  contend 
against  until  the  poor  fellows  know  by  enlightenment 
where  their  own  interests  lie  and  the  necessity  for  their 
acting  in  unison  and  making  sacrifices.  Old  Toryism 
has  still  a  long  spell  of  hfe  in  this  country  where  the 
vitality  has  need  to  be  strong  in  the  centre  of  thick  decay 
that  won't  be  shovelled  out. — I  fancy  Captain  Maxse 
had  to  pay  about  £2000  for  the  attempt.  He  acted 
simply  in  a  spirit  of  duty,  that  he  might  enter  Parliament 
to  plead  the  cause  of  the  poor, — Our  commercial  failures 
of  two  years  back  still  press  on  us.  Artists  and  authors 
suffer  particularly.  But  the  strain  will  be  over  with 
me  very  soon.  My  novels  have  been  kept  back  by 
having  had  to  write  on  newspapers — the  only  things  that 
paid. — So  take  this  as  a  moral  :  don't  think  of  literature 
as  a  profession.  I  believe  you  to  have  too  much  good 
sense. — Who  are  the  kind  people  of  the  name  of  Nicolls 
whom  5'^ou  visit  in  Berne  ? — Mr.  Burnand  asked  after  you 
the  other  day,  and  sent  his  love  to  you.  He  still  writes 
regularly  on  *  Punch  '  and  puts  plays  on  the  stage.  He 
is  a  distant  relative — is  he  not  ? — of  M.  Emile  Burnand 
your  master. — I  calculate  that  I  shall  be  free  in  June, 
about  the  middle  of  the  month,  and  may  be  with  you  then 
or  later  for  a  tour  together.  But  would  you  prefer  to  go 
with  the  other  fellows,  and  spend  some  days  with  me 
afterwards  ?     I  think  it  quite  as  well  that  you  should  not 


LETTERS  OF  GEORGE  MEREDITH         195 

return  to  England  until  you  do  so  finally  to  begin  your 
apprenticeship  to  some  business — I  don't  mean  trade, 
unless  you  like  it,  nor  do  I  suppose  that  you  much  desire 
to  come  home  at  present.  One  of  the  nicest  arrangements 
would  be  for  Mama  and  Willie  to  go  to  some  pleasant 
Norman  or  Biscayan  sea-coast  and  welcome  you  there,  and 
I  could  take  you  back  to  Berne.  Tell  me  what  your  views 
are. — Perhaps  if  you  are  found  to  be  getting  too  old 
for  Dr.  Miiller's  school,  you  might  remove  to  Dresden. 
Spain  and  Spanish,  I  fear,  would  be  of  no  use  to  you  in 
the  future.  How  much  I  long  to  meet  you  !  Keep  pure 
in  mind,  unselfish  of  heart,  and  diligent  in  study.  This 
is  the  right  way  of  worshipping  God,  and  is  better  than 
hymns  and  sermons  and  incense.  We  find  it  doubtful 
whether  God  blesses  the  latter,  but  cultivate  the  former, 
and  you  are  sure  of  Him.  Heed  me  well  when  I  say  this. 
And  may  God  forever  bless  you,  I  pray  it  nightly. 

To  Captain  Maxse, 

MiCKLEHAM,  Feb.  17,  1868. 

Our  old  friend  !  It  chokes  me  to  think  that  we  have 
lost  him.  I  have  PurceU's  ^  dear  old  wind-blown  brown 
gleam  of  a  face,  the  manner  of  him,  the  voice  and  walk, 
more  firmly  stamped  in  my  mind  than  most  living  men 
are.  He  comes  up  to  meet  me  now — I  see  him  dashed 
with  spray — parrying  a  thrust  from  me — I  can't  beheve 
he  's  gone.  His  voice  is  alive  in  my  ears.  Only,  I  know 
that  when  I  come  to  Holly  Hill  I  shall  feel  the  truth  sadly 
enough.  Poor,  dear  old  man  !  This  will  change  Summer 
and  the  yacht  to  you  and  your  wife.  He  was  so  true  a 
gentleman,  with  a  pardonable  old  dog's  growl  now  and 
then — after  all,  very  rarely.  I  reproach  myself  that  I 
should  have  let  him  ever  sink  a  trifle  in  my  esteem.     And 

*  Parcoll,  skipper  of  Capbaia  Maxso's  yacht. 


196        LETTERS  OF  GEORGE  IVIEREDITH 

I  am  always  on  my  guard  against  the  influence  of  these 
sectional  impressions,  and  try  so  much  to  get  and  keep 
possession  of  a  man's  character,  so  that  I  may  never  fall 
into  these  silly  errors.  It  seems  to  me  that  the  old  man 
has  gone  carrying  my  debt  to  him  away  for  good.  The 
Uttle  history  revealed  to  you  by  his  death  is  wretched. — 
What  will  be  done  for  the  children  ?  That 's  the  most 
lamentable  thought  of  all. 

Marie  is  in  grief  for  the  loss  of  Purcell.  He  belonged  to 
our  early  marriage  days.  On  my  soul  I  think  I  shall 
never  smell  salt  water  or  look  on  a  grey  ridge  of  sea  or 
sea  haze  without  thinking  of  him. 

The  typhus  probably  followed  gastric  fever,  which  one 
gets  from  fretting  ;   it  speedily  sends  us  on. 

Alas  !  my  dear  Fred,  I  didn't  expect  sad  news  from 
you. 

Our  Willie  Maxse  will  be  three  years  old  in  July. 

Then  let  me  have  Ben.^  I  dehght  (so  does  Marie)  to 
think  of  him  coming.  But  I  'm  bothered,  I  'U  write 
about  him  to-morrow. — Your  loving 

Geoege  Meredith. 

To  F J 5. 


Box  Hnx, 
Nov.,  Lord  Guy  of  London  Day. 

Friend   J , — It  being   the  fashionable  Season  in 

Brighton  at  Brighton  you  are,  of  course.  Now,  your 
way  back  to  Kingston  lies  exactly  by  Box  Hill.  Will 
you  take  us  en  route  ?  Do  !  I  have  not  seen  you  for  so 
long  that  on  my  honour  I  could  listen  to  your  puns  with 
pleasure  :  and  who  could  say  more  ?  We  have  been 
most  unfortunate  during  the  summer,  with  first  the 
soaking,  till  the  Inns  were  fuU  right  on  to  October.  But 
p,t  present  Inns  gape,  and  we  can  get  one  room  for  you 

^  A  rod  rotricver  dog. 


LETTERS  OF  GEORGE  MEREDITH  197 

at  the  Burford  or  Beehive.    If  you  are  for  companionship 

with  me,  J ,  you  wiU  come.     Write  by  return,  and 

arrange.  Bring  all  with  you.  If  it  rain,  we  '11  draw  the 
blinds,  let  fly  the  corks,  and  dance.  If  it 's  fair,  I  'U  sweat 
you  gently  over  the  hills  and  home  to  our  tobacco  Parlia- 
ment.    I  can't  say  fairer. — I  would  send  my  love  to 

Mrs.  J ,  but  fear  your  tarnishing  it  in  the  transmission. 

But  I  kiss  my  hand  to  the  heavens  :  and  let  her  only 
look  on  your  head,  and  she  will  see  the  act  reflected. — 
Your  friendUest  George  Meredith. 


To  Captain  Maxse. 

aiiCKLEHAM,  Dec.  19,  1869. 

My  dear  Fred, — Morison  will  take  notice  of  your 
pamphlet :  he  says  he  cannot  do  so  more  than  inciden- 
tally, as  he  would  have  done  if  you  had  written  a  book. 
.  .  .  Greenwood  has  been  (as  one  can  conceive  possible) 
too  busy  to  read  anything. — The  '  Holy  Grail '  is  wonder- 
ful, isn't  it  ?  The  lines  are  satin  lengths,  the  figures  Sevres 
china.  I  have  not  the  courage  to  offer  to  review  it,  I 
should  say  such  things.  To  think  ! — it 's  in  these  days 
that  the  foremost  poet  of  the  country  goes  on  fluting  of 
creatures  that  have  not  a  breath  of  vital  humanity  in 
them,  and  doles  us  out  his  regular  flve-feet  with  the 
old  trick  of  the  vowel  endings — The  Euphuist's  tongue, 
the  Exquisite's  leg,  the  Curate's  moral  sentiments,  the 
British  matron  and  her  daughter's  purity  of  tone  : — so 
he  talks,  so  he  walks,  so  he  snuffles,  so  he  appears  divine. 
— ^I  repeat  with  my  Grannam, — to  think  ! — and  to  hear 
the  chorus  of  praise  too  !  Why,  this  stuff  is  not  the 
Muse,  it 's  Musery.  The  man  has  got  hold  of  the  Muses' 
clothes-line  and  hung  it  with  jewehy. 

But  the  '  Lucretius  '  is  grand.  I  can't  say  how  much 
I  admire  it  and  hate  the  Sir  Pandarus  public  which  has 


198        LETTERS  OF  GEORGE  MEREDITH 

corrupted  this  fine  (natural)  singer.  In  his  degraded 
state  I  really  believe  he  is  useful,  for  he  reflects  as  much 
as  our  Society  chooses  to  show  of  itself.  The  Enghsh 
notion  of  passion,  virtue,  valour,  is  in  his  pages  :  and 
the  air  and  the  dress  we  assume  are  seen  there. — I  turn 
to  Rabelais  and  Montaigne  with  relief.  See  what  a 
gentleman  Boccaccio  is  in  his  narration  !  and  always 
manly,  always  fresh. — Do  you  care  to  find  the  Holy  Grail, 
Fred  ?  Twenty  years  ago  it  would  have  excited  me. 
This  your  foremost  Poet  is  twenty  years  behind  his 
time.  Of  course  I  expect  a  contrary  opinion  from  you. 
But  answer  me — isn't  there  a  scent  of  damned  hypocrisy 
in  all  this  lisping  and  vowelled  purity  of  the  Idylls  ? 
Well !  just  as  you  hke.  It 's  fashionable  ;  it  pleases 
the  rose-pink  ladies,  it  sells.     Enough. — I  am  your  loving 

George  M. 

I  spoke  strongly  to  Greenwood  of  Bradlaugh ;  im- 
pressed him,  I  trust. 

To  Captain  Maxse. 

Box  Hill,  Dec.  27,  1869. 

My  dear  Fred, — I  return  Ruskin's  letter,  a  character- 
istic one.  I  am  chiefly  glad  that  you  should  be  in  corre- 
spondence with  a  man  who  will  appreciate  and  stimulate 
you  ;  glad  too  that  you  seem  to  see  where  he  falls  short, 
or,  rather,  aims  blindly.  It  is  the  spirituality  of  Carlyle 
that  charms  him.  What  he  says  of  Tennyson  I  too 
thought  in  my  boy's  days,  that  is,  before  I  began  to  think. 
Tennyson  has  many  spiritual  indications,  but  no  philo- 
sophy, and  philosophy  is  the  palace  of  thought.  Mill  is 
essentially  a  critic  :  it  is  his  heart,  not  his  mind,  which 
sends  him  feeling  ahead.  But  he  really  does  not  touch 
the  soul  and  springs  of  the  Universe  as  Carlyle  does. 
Only,  when  the  latter  attempts  practical  dealings  he  is 


LETTERS  OF  GEORGE  MEREDITH        199 

irritable  as  a  woman,  impetuous  as  a  tyrant.  He  seeks 
the  short  road  to  his  ends  ;  and  the  short  road  is,  we 
know,  a  bloody  one.  He  is  not  wise  ;  Mill  is  ;  but 
Carlyle  has  most  hght  when  he  burns  calmly.  Much  of 
Ruskin's  Political  Economy  will,  I  suspect,  be  stamped  as 
good  by  posterity.  He  brings  humanity  into  it.  This 
therefore  is  not  the  Political  Economy  of  our  day. — I 
have  turned  Wendell  Phillips  like  a  drenching  fireman's 
hose  on  a  parson,  and  made  him  sputter  and  gutter 
and  go  to  his  wife  to  trim  his  wick.  The  Oration  is 
very  noble.  Adieu.  Write  some  day  next  year. — Your 
loving  George  Meredith. 


To  Captain  Maxse. 

MiCKLEHAM,  1869. 

My  dear  Ered, — .  .  .  Will  is  in  the  garden  on  a 
rocking-horse,  new  gift  from  his  Aunt.  His  seat  is  as 
Cardigan's  entering  Balaclava  guns, — Of  course  you  've 
read  Kinglake,  very  deliberate,  very  conscientious. 
He  has  done  all  the  work  of  the  History  of  the  Grim.  War 
except  to  write  it.  His  writing  is  so  fine — so  fine  (in 
both  senses)  that  to  say  it  is  penmanship  seems  best  to 
express  it. — One  sees  the  whole  Balaclava  business,  as 
he  saw  it  (and  you)  from  the  heights,  through  Klinglake's 
slowly -moving,  dioramic  opera -glass,  with  the  fifty 
degree  magnifying  power  of  patient  imagination,  full 
study  and  testimony,  superadded.  It  deserves  praise 
and  thanks.  Contemporaneous  history  should  thus  be 
wi'itten  :  but  it  is  not  an  artistic  piece  of  history.  How 
glorious  Scarlett  at  the  head  of  his  300  Greys  and  Innis- 
killens  !  Yet  one  can't  help  feeling  that  Kinglake  makes 
them  go  astonishingly  like  the  horsemen  in  a  peepshow. 
Scarlett  enters  : — pause  ;  now  Shegogg  : — pause  ;  Aide 
de  camp  : — pause  :   now  the  Greys,  presently  the  Innis- 


200        LETTERS  OF  GEORGE  MEREDITH 

killens  : — So  on.     Very  good,  very  bad.     Adieu. — ^Your 
loving  George  Meredith. 


To  Captain  Maxse. 

MiCKLEHAM,  Jan.  2,  1870. 

My  dear  Fred, — It 's  difficult  to  speak  mildly  of  a 
man  who  calls  John  IVIill  blockhead,  and  dares  to  assume 
Carlyle's  mantle  of  Infallibility  on  the  plea  that  it  is  his 
'  master's.'  Still  I  agree  with  much  that  he  says  of 
Carlyle.  I  hold  that  he  is  the  nearest  to  being  an  inspired 
writer  of  any  man  in  our  times  ;  he  does  proclaim  in- 
violable law  :  he  speaks  from  the  deep  springs  of  Hfe. 
All  this.  But  when  he  descends  to  our  common  pave- 
ment, when  he  would  apply  his  eminent  spiritual  wisdom 
to  the  course  of  legislation,  he  is  no  more  sagacious  nor 
useful  nor  temperate  than  a  flash  of  lightning  in  a  grocer's 
shop.  '  I  purify  the  atmosphere,'  says  this  agent.  '  You 
knock  me  down,  spoil  my  goods  and  frighten  my  family,' 
says  the  grocer. — Philosophy,  while  rendering  his  dues  to 
a  man  like  Carlyle  and  acloiowledging  itself  inferior  in 
activity,  despises  his  hideous  blustering  impatience  in 
the  presence  of  progressive  facts. 

Read  the  '  French  Revolution  '  and  you  listen  to  a  seer  : 
the  recent  pamphlets,  and  he  is  a  drunken  country  squire 
of  superordinary  ability. 

Carl5'le  preaches  work  for  all  to  all.  Good.  But  his 
method  of  applying  his  sermon  to  his  '  nigger  '  is  intoler- 
able.— Spiritual  hght  he  has  to  illuminate  a  nation.  Of 
practical  little  or  none,  and  he  beats  his  own  brains  out 
with  emphasis. 

As  to  what  R.  says  of  John  Mill  I  have  not  the  Pol.  Ec. 
handy.  I  am  inclined  to  think  the  present  generation 
of  P.  Economists  wrong — that  they  don't  see  that  the 
obligations  of  Wealth  pertain  to  its  sources,  and  that 


LETTERS  OF  GEORGE  MEREDITH         201 

R.  has  some  vague  truth  for  a  backbone  to  his  prepos- 
terous priestly  attitude  and  inebriate  conceit  as  against 
adversaries. 

The  Parsonry  are  irritating  me  fearfully,  but  a  non- 
celibate  clergy  are  a  terrific  power.  They  are  interwound 
with  the  whole  of  the  Middle  class  like  the  poisonous 
ivy.  Oh  !  for  independence,  that  I  might  write  my  mind 
of  these  sappers  of  our  strength. — Your  loving 

George  M. 


To  John  Morley.'^ 

IVIiCKLEHAM,  Jan.  2,  1870. 

My  dear  Morley, — ^Very  glad  to  hear  from  you — I 
called  on  Morison.  He  told  me  of  your  passage  to 
Glasgow  and  lecture  on  Condorcet,  a  capital  subject 
for  a  philosopher.  I  shall  read  it  in  the  '  Fortnightly.' — 
Some  fear  struck  me  that  you  would  not  find  things  well 
at  Lytham. 

I  should  have  written  to  ask  leave  to  review  Tennyson's 
Arthurian  Cycles  ;  but  I  could  not  summon  heart  even 
to  get  the  opening  for  speaking  my  mind  on  it. — I  can 
hardly  say  I  think  he  deserves  well  of  us  ;  he  is  a  real 
singer,  and  he  sings  this  mild  fluency  to  this  great  length. 
Malory's  Morte  Arthur  is  preferable.  Fancy  one  affect- 
ing the  great  poet  and  giving  himself  up  (in  our  days  ! — 
he  must  have  lost  the  key  of  them)  to  such  dandiacal 
fluting. — Yet  there  was  stuff  here  for  a  poet  of  genius  to 

»  Now  Viscount  Morley  of  Blackburn,  P.C,  O.M.,  F.R.S.  Till  the 
end  of  his  life  Lord  Morley's  books  as  they  appeared  were  read, 
criticised,  and  appreciated  by  Meredith.  A  short  list  of  them  is 
appended  for  convenient  reference;  Edmund  Burke  (1807),  Critical 
Miscellanies  (1871),  Voltaire  (\%1\).  Rousseau  (\^1Z),  On  Compromiae 
(1874),  Diderot  and  the  Encyclopaedists  (1878),  Burke  (1879),  Richard 
Cobden  (1881),  Oliver  Cromwell  (1900).  Life  of  Gladstone  (1903).  Lord 
Morley  edited  the  Fortnightly  Re^^iew  (1867-83),  the  Pall  Mall  OazeUe 
(1880-83),  and  Macmillan'B  Magazine  (1883-85). 


202        LETTERS  OF  GEORGE  MEREDITH 

animate  the  figures  and  make  them  reflect  us,  and  on  us. 
I  read  the  successive  mannered  Hnes  with  pain — yards 
of  linen — drapery  for  the  delight  of  ladies  who  would 
be  in  the  fashion. — The  praises  of  the  book  shut  me  away 
from  my  fellows.  To  be  sure,  there  's  the  magnificent 
*  Lucretius.' 

Fred  Maxse  has  been  corresponding  with  Ruskin. — 
Anon,  anon.  I  am  not  at  liberty  to  write  of  the  latter's 
monstrous  assumption  of  wisdom. 

Ah  !  the  Hindhead  and  a  Southwester  on  it  in  March 
or  April ! — Yes  !  and  then  to  Florence. 

Let  me  hear  when  you  are  in  London.  I  shall  not  be 
up  till  about  the  11th  or  12th.  We  will  dine  at  the 
Garrick,  an  you  please.  Good  luck  speed  the  *  Pall  Mall.' 
— I  rejoice  to  hear  that  your  head  is  teeming.  Did  I 
tell  you  that  Fred  and  I  went  to  sit  under  Bradlaugh  one 
evening  ?  The  man  is  neither  to  be  laughed  nor  sneered 
down,  nor  trampled.  He  will  be  a  powerful  speaker. 
I  did  my  best  to  make  Greenwood  understand  that.  It 
was  really  pleasant  to  hear  those  things  spoken  which 
the  parsonry  provoke.  Here,  at  a  party  where  our 
Willie  entertained  company  of  his  own  age,  the  hostess 
feared  to  see  the  children  standing  in  a  ring  because 
(she  said — and  she  is  by  way  of  being  independent)  the 

little  (parson's  children — he  begets  annually — the 

children   die   decennially — and   he   is    '  chastened  '    but 

sees  no  natural  curse — !)  the  little  • might  thinli  it 

was  meant  for  dancing  ! 


To  John  Morley. 

Box  Hill,  Jan.  13,  1870. 

My  dear  friend  M., — You  will  write  and  let  me  know 
if  there  is  anything  I  can  do  for  you.  My  hands  are 
altogether  at  your  service. 


LETTERS  OF  GEORGE  MEREDITH        203 

A  copy  of  H.  Rochefort's  Marseillaise  may  interest  you  ; 
it  is  the  Republican  (Red)  shriek  (the  Irish  word  escapes 
me)  over  Victor  Noir.i  n  'g  g,  good  study  of  the  French 
period. — Well,  after  reading  it  and  repressing  my  gorge 
at  this  undignified  fury  and  savage  friendship,  I  turned 
to  a  leading  article  in  the  '  Morning  Post '  in  which  the 
assassinated  youngster  is  supremely  sneered  at  as  a 
linendraper's  apprentice  who  caught  an  appetite  for 
literature  from  the  '  Petit  Journal.'  (It  seems  that  no  less 
a  man  than  Weiss  had  some  hopes  of  him).  On  the 
whole,  I  was,  critically  speaking,  most  disgusted  with 
our  high-noted  friend. 

This  number  of  the  '  Fortnightly  '  is  excellent :  your 
Condorcet  to  my  mind  an  example  of  your  best  judicial 
style,  minus  the  judicial  excess  of  precision  (occasionally 
as  from  an  old  maid  to  an  errand  boy — so  hke  !).  These 
studies  which  you  put  into  so  noble  a  shape  and  impreg- 
nate with  your  full  mind,  will  help  to  bear  good  fruit  in 
all  directions.  Meanwhile  they  are  fine  reading.  Take 
to  history.  Preserve  this  style  in  historical  narrative, 
and  your  name  will  not  take  a  second  rank.  My  dear 
M.  !  I  don't  know  how  it  may  be  with  you.  I  trust  that 
you  may  have  all  your  strength  about  you.  If  it  ever 
comforts  you  to  think  of  my  affection,  be  sure  that  you 
have  it. — Yours,  George  Meredith. 


To  John  Morley. 

MiCKLEHAM,  Dorking,  Jan.  27,  1870. 

My  dearest  M., — ^The  drama  of  a  household  burnt 
out  under  my  eye  here,  has  given  me  some  excitement. 
Irish  Mr.  Sewell,  six  feet  five,  liaired  like  Erebus,  brawny 
as  Vulcan's  first  forgeman,  with  a  sniffling  English  wife, 
whose  shawl  is,  like  her  nose,  always  thawing  off  her 

*  KUlod  by  Prince  Piorra  Bonaparte  at  Auteuil,  Jan.  10,  1870. 


204        LETTERS  OF  GEORGE  MEREDITH 

shoulder,  and  a  family  of  four,  a  good  honest  lot  for  that 
matter,  lived  in  a  hut  in  the  comer  of  a  field  abutting 
on  our  acres,  to  watch  potatoes  grow.  Sewell  was  away 
at  work,  his  wife  sniffling  somewhere,  when  out  flaps  the 
big  girl  with  a  whinny.  Fire  !  Fire  ! — and  I  giving  a  touch 
to  '  Richmond.'  I  was  soon  in  a  gentle  rain  of  thatch. 
The  girl  tumbled,  and  I  assure  you  I  saw  the  vision  of 
Danae  in  a  jiffy.  She  Uved  (like  woman's  virtue)  under 
a  thatched  roof.  I  saved  the  nuptial  bed  of  these  rash 
and  unwearied  propagators  ;  my  gardener  arriving  later 
attached  himself  to  the  pigs.  There  would  have  been, 
as  I  told  him  later,  a  chance  of  roast  pig — !  I  repeated 
Charles  Lamb's  story  to  him.  He  is  without  imagination 
and  '  hoped  I  was  joking.' 

.  .  .  I  'm  afraid  the  *  Pall  Mall '  can't  be  doing  well, 
though  when  I  went  to  Greenwood  he  insisted  on  the 
cheerfulness  of  its  condition. — All  speak  with  regret  of 
t  and  of  what  they  hear  of  it. — The  tone — eh  ?  of  the 
leaders  doesn't  seem  to  me  so  good,  though  it 's  above 
the  newspaper  type.  You  see  they  have  dealt  with 
Bradlaugh.  I  spoke  to  Greenwood  about  him,  insisting 
that  he  was  a  man  of  power,  and  was  not  to  be  sneered 
down  ;  and  that  on  the  whole  he  said  certain  things 
comforting  to  hear  by  one  suffering  from  Simon  Peter. — 
As  to  '  Harry  Richmond,'  I  fear  I  am  evolving  his  per- 
sonality too  closely  for  the  public,  but  a  man  must  work 
by  the  light  of  his  conscience  if  he  's  to  do  anything 
worth  reading. — I  see  the  *  Quarterly  '  deals  rather  firmly 
with  the  '  Holy  Grail ' — something  in  these  days.  It  is 
hard  on  the  '  Lucretius ' — compares  the  flow  of  the  English 
lines  with  the  Latin  Hexameters  of  the  poet.  No  one 
but  Milton  has  the  roll  of  the  English  line.  The  French 
Alexandrine,  which  I  have  been  studying  of  late,  is 
(though  far  off)  nearer  to  ancient  poetical  music  than 
anything  we  have  out  of  Milton.     When  I  have  leisure 


LETTERS  OF  GEORGE  MEREDITH         205 

I  hope  to  write  some  papers  on  poetry  and  versification. 
— I  hear  good  things  said  of  your  Condorcet,  and  am  con- 
vinced you  are  getting  the  right  historical  tone.  Young 
Trollope  complains  that  you  employ  hyphens  too  largely. 
I  quote  the  criticism  pour  votre  gouverne.  Now  good- 
night, my  dear  friend  ;  I  do  but  chat  to  amuse  you,  if 
things  permit  of  it.  Doubtless  you  have  your  eye  on 
the  news,  and  I  need  not  discuss  pohtics.     Adieu. 


To  John  Morley. 

Box  Hill,  March  5,  1870. 

My  dearest  M., — We  are  both  with  you  in  heart. 
When  your  heart  is  bowed  to  the  black  metal  gates,  words 
of  the  best  of  friends  can  be  but  poorly  helpful  ;  but 
think  of  us  and  our  love  for  you  when  you  look  up  and 
around  you  once  again. — I  had  this  shock  when  I  was 
a  httle  boy,  and  merely  wondered.  .  .  . — Your  affectionate 

George  Meredith. 

To  William  Hardinan. 

Box  Hill,  June  15,  1870. 

Dearest  T., — It  must  have  been  as  you  say.  I  was 
thinking  of  twenty.  I  send  now  cheque  dated  24th  (which 
is  a  liberty  on  my  part).  The  truth  is,  I  have  sent  in  my 
work,  and  am  waiting  for  payment,  which  I  don't  want 
to  press  for  ;  and  it  is  just  possible  I  may  have  to  ask 
you  to  hold  on  till  the  end  of  the  month,  when  I  come 
upon  other  resources  sufficient  for  the  time.  You  can 
either  retain  the  old  cheque,  or  tell  me  it  is  torn  up. 

Next  week  we  are  engaged  up  to  (save  Tuesday) 
Saturday  morning.  Remember  too  that  the  dry  days 
are  going.  This  next  Saturday  we  dine  out,  Friday  is 
my  town  day,  Monday  also.  What  do  you  say  to 
Tuesday  ?     On   Wednesday   and   Thursday   we   are   at 


206        LETTERS  OF  GEORGE  MEREDITH 

Effingham  Hill.  I  mean,  if  you  are  at  home,  to  be  in- 
vited to  you,  solus,  in  early  July — when  you  haven't 
trumpets  in  your  gardens  and  are  not  entertaining  the 
wealth  and  beauty  of  the  district.     You  will  see  Poco. 

Dickens  gone  !  The  '  Spectator  '  says  he  beat  Shake- 
speare at  his  best,  and  instances  IMrs.  Gamp  as  superior 
to  Juliet's  nurse.     This  in  a  critical  newspaper ! 

My  love  to  all  at  home,  and  hope  that  they  will  be 
footing  our  brown  hill  soon. — Your  loving 

George  Meredith. 

To  William  Hardman. 

Box  Hill,  Juhj  6,  1870. 

Sweet  Justice  of  Norbiton,  neighbour  of  Jones, 

Have  you  paid  in  the  £15  cheque  ? 
The  account  at  my  banker's  has  recently  grown 

As  fat  as  the 

But  'tis  sweating  already,  it  dwindles  apace : 
So  I  pray  you  (and  here  's  to  your  luck) 

Don't  give  to  the  matter  a  minute  more  grace, 
And  adieu,  Serenissimo  Tuck  ! 

Halloa  !  you  are  off  to  the  Isle  of  Wight  ?  Do  you 
remember  the  '  race  '  off  Sandown  ?  Perhaps  I  may  run  - 
down  for  two  or  three  days. — Thus  our  affairs  :  Marie 
waits  to  let  her  house,  when  she  will  convoy  Wilkins 
to  Nonancourt.  I  remain  working  somewhere  for  three 
weeks,  pouncing  on  friends  ;  then  I  go  to  fetch  her  back. 
We  return  in  September.  Arturus  has  received  an  in- 
vitation from  Marie's  sister  to  go  to  Joubasseau  in 
Dauphine  for  his  holidays  (Basle,  Geneva,  Chambery), 
so  he  will  be  comfortable.  I  shan't  be  able  to  meet  him. 
I  wish  you  could  see  some  of  the  letters  he  has  written 
lately.     They  speak  promisingly. 

My  novel  *  Harry  Richmond '  is  out  of  my  hands  and 


LETTERS  OF  GEORGE  MEREDITH         207 

appears  in  the  Cornhill  the  1st  October.     By  that  time 
I  hope  to  have  another  ready. 

Wilkins  in  very  fine  condition.  Ourself  middhng — in 
want  of  outing.  Marie  well.  I  hope  the  illustrious  Editor 
of  *  Punch  '  has  got  round  again  and  rounder.  Adieu 
to  you  all. — Your  loving  George  Meredith. 

The  last  of  dear  old  St.  Bernard  was  that  he  was  down 
on  his  back.  We  are  off  for  a  couple  of  days  to  Lady 
Caroline  Maxse's,  Effingham  Hill.  She  has  taken  to 
Marie. 

To  Arthur  G.  Meredith. 

England,  Box  Hill,  July  14,  1870. 

My  dear  Arthur, — Write  to  Madame  Poussielque  ^ 
when  you  know  the  day  Professor  Zeller  starts,  and  go 
yourself  that  day.  The  later,  the  better,  for  your  Aunt 
Betty  does  not  leave  here  till  the  first  days  of  August, 
and  I  should  Hke  you  to  see  her,  and  to  have  her  report 
of  your  condition.  Besides  she  is  charming  society. 
Do  not  fail  at  one  time  or  other  of  your  visit  to  make  the 
expedition  to  the  Grande  Chartreuse.  I  am  sure  it  will 
delight  you.  Whatever  money  you  may  be  in  need  of 
you  shall  have.  Send  me  (clearly  wi'itten)  a  detail  of 
the  value  of  your  florins  in  francs,  and  how  much  the 
journey  to  Joubasseau  costs  you.  When  there,  use  what 
money  you  have  remaining  for  pocket-money,  and  more 
shall  be  forwarded  to  you,  according  to  the  necessity  of 
the  case.  I  wish  you  to  be  careful,  but  to  feel  tolerably 
independent,  and  in  all  things  to  enjoy  your  holiday. 

It  has  looked  recently  as  if  we  should  have  war  between 
Prance  and  Prussia,  and  I  fear  it  must  come  on  ;  but 
I  think  not  immediately.     When  men's  brains  are  in- 

^  The  olde?t  ^lis^  VuUiamy  had  married  Commandant  Poussiolquo, 
of  Pont  de  Beau  Voisin,  Savoy. 


208         LETTERS  OF  GEORGE  MEREDITH 

sufficient  to  meet  the  exigencies  of  affairs,  they  fight. 
If  the  war  should  burst  out,  I  shall  be  grieved,  for  I  Uke 
France,  and  yet  see  the  good  for  Europe  of  having  a  strong 
central  State  composed  of  a  sohd  people.  There  is  no 
need  at  present  to  consider  the  course  that  you  should 
take  in  the  event  of  war  encircling  little  Wiirtemberg. 
You  will  like  the  Commandant  (equal  in  military  rank 
to  our  major)  very  much.  He  has  seen  a  great  deal  of 
campaigning  both  in  the  Crimea  and  in  Algeria.  He  is 
a  Frenchman  of  the  best  kind.  You  will  not  find  him  an 
admirer  of  Prussia,  but  keep  your  judgment  in  balance 
on  all  questions  upon  which  you  have  no  personal  ex- 
perience, and  have  had  no  opportunities  for  reflection.  .  .  . 
I  have  passed  Chambery  and  been  at  Grenoble.  All  the 
Dauphine  country  is  beautiful,  so  you  are  sure  to  be 
pleased.  I  trust  with  all  my  heart  you  will  be  happy, 
and  am  your  loving  father,  George  Meredith. 

To  John  31orley. 

Box  Hill,  July  21,  1870. 

My  dear  Morley, — .  .  .  What  news  ! — this  of  Prevost 
Paradol !  ^  Why  talk  of  the  horrors  of  war  when  we  are 
fronting  artillery  at  every  second  of  our  lives. — My  *  Pall 
Mall '  comes  to  me  this  morning  with  the  most  ludicrous 
blunder  about  a  name  of  a  place  ever  printed.  Forbach 
is  treated  of  as  being  in  the  Black  Forest  (where  there  is  a 
little  village  of  the  name),  and  the  '  Pall  MaU  '  speculates 
upon  why  hostihties  should  have  commenced  there  ! — 
Our  friend  can  afford  such  errors  less  than  any  other 
journal. — On  the  whole,  I  side  with  France,  or  so  incline. 
The  instinct  of  the  people  in  seizing  an  opportunity  to 

^  Lucion  Anatolo  Prtwost  Paradol,  journalist  and  litterateur,  member 
of  French  Academy  (1865),  was  born  in  Paris,  August  8,  1829.  In  1870 
he  was  appointed  Minister  Plenipotentiary  to  the  United  States  of 
America,  but  had  scarce  arrived  in  Washinpton  when  his  position 
became  so  difficult  that,  losing  heart,  ho  killed  himself. 


LETTERS  OF  GEORGE  MEREDITH        209 

dispute  the  aggrandisement  of  Prussia  is  right :  it  is 
not  a  Vanity  war  nor  a  King's,  but  a  people's  war — war 
of  Germans  and  Frenchmen  ;  a  trial  of  actual  strength 
for  supremacy  :  and  it  was  nonsense  to  think  of  post- 
poning it,  ruinous  to  delay. — The  tone  of  our  Press  is 
sickening. — No  correspondents  allowed,  so  my  chance  is 
gone. 

To  John  Morley. 

Box  Hill,  1870. 

My  dear  M., — I  found  the  boy  still  troubled  yesterday, 
and  to-day  the  doctor  says  he  will  have  to  rest  for  two 
or  three  days  :  meanwhile  he  goes  on  well.  Very  doubt- 
ful whether  Marie  will  be  able  to  bring  him  over  this 
week.  The  next  I  must  give  to  Fred  Maxse.  After- 
wards, you  willing,  we  may  come.  That  is,  if  I  am  on 
the  spot.  It 's  possible  that  I  may  start  to  French 
quarters  for  Borthwick. — If  you  hke  I  will  run  to  you  on 
Thursday.  This  war  agitates  me  ;  gazing  on  an  old  tree, 
or  talking  with  you,  are  my  febrifuges.  I  have  just  had 
the  Book  of  Orm  ^  sent  to  me  from  the  author.  It  may 
be  a  setthng,  it 's  not  a  composing  draught.  The  news- 
papers are  mere  chips  of  dry  biscuit  to  my  devouring 
appetite  for  telegrams  and  details.  Yesterday  and  to-day, 
thank  heaven,  they  haven't  (I  don't  see  the  '  Times  ')  ser- 
monized. England  hasn't  screamed  and  scolded  and 
clacked  and  nodded  her  cap,  and  sniffled  to  her  clergyman 
for  comfort. — I  wrote  some  verse  to  you  this  morning, 
but  as  it  isn't  finished  can't  send  it.  Taste  the  beginning, 
perhaps  never  to  end — never  to  have  tail — like  scorned 
pigs. 

'  Friend,  when  the  thundercloud  is  low, 
And  in  the  expectancy  and  throe. 
Field,  hill,  and  wave  of  forest  grow 
The  hue  that  edges  black  on  fair, 
^  The  Book  of  Orm,  by  Robert  Buchanan. 
VOL.  I. — 0 


210        LETTERS  OF  GEORGE  MEREDITH 

No  voice  is  heard,  and  not  a  sound, 
Though  Hsten  all  the  hollow  ground ; 
But  swift  I  have  known  a  white  dove  thread  the  air. 

So  now  these  lines  to  you,  between 
The  loaded  darkness  and  dead  green,' 

Etc.,  etc.  no  more  space. 

May  our  hearts  be  stout,  and  we  prove  our  begetting 
honest ! — Ever  yours,  George  M. 

To  John  Morley. 

Box  Hill,  July  25,  1870. 

My  dearest  M., — .  .  .  I  am  glad  you  like  the  verses. 
The  next  batch  you  will  find  plunge  deeper.  Mind,  I 
swore  them  as  to  you,  and  you  (though  you  blinked  at 
the  time,  as  much  as  to  tell  me  I  w^as  intimidating  you) 
consented  to  take  them. — I  am  in  poor  mood  for  writing  : 
an  attack  of  stomach  keeps  me  singular  in  ideas,  and, 
like  the  contemplative  dervish,  with  a  fixed  eye  on  the 
centre  of  my  being,  whence  does  not  issue  song  at  present. 

The  war  of  '70  is  direct  issue  of  '66.  Just  as  we  abused 
the  Prussians  then  we  howl  at  the  French  now,  but  the 
tremendous  armaments  on  both  sides  were  meant  for  this 
duel,  and  it  mattered  very  little  what  was  the  pretext  for 
the  outbreak.  Surely  it 's  a  case  of  Arcades  Ambo.  The 
French  felt  themselves  perpetually  menaced  by  distended 
Prussia,  irritated  by  her  tone,  even  alarmed  by  the 
rumour  and  dread  of  projects  the  existence  of  which  her 
antecedents  might  seem  to  warrant.  At  any  rate  it  was 
a  fight  to  come  on  ;  and  here  we  have  it ;  and  if  we  are 
energetic  and  wise  it  may  be  the  last  of  the  great  fights 
of  Europe.  The  two  foremost  States  in  war  and  intellect 
may  well  be  committed  to  cut  the  bloody  tangle.  I  feel 
deeply  for  the  Germans  ;  I  quite  understand  the  ardour 
of  the  French.     I  think  their  cause,  from  their  point  of 


LETTERS  OF  GEORGE  MEREDITH        211 

view,  thoroughly  good,  and  not  hkely  to  succeed.  Armies 
can't  do  it :  they  can't  check  the  tide  of  a  great  nation. 
As  to  the  Emperor,  lie  appears  to  have  thought  the  season 
for  a  trial  of  the  new  breech-loader  field-pieces  and 
JVIitrailleuse  had  come,  just  as  Bismarck  could  not  afiEord 
to  delay  in  trying  his  needle-gun  on  the  Austrians.  The 
Emperor  had  note  of  warning  that  his  routed  Prussians 
were  also  busy  perfecting  mysterious  instruments.  Poor 
devilry !  All  devilry  is  poor  in  the  contemplation. 
But  it  is  still  the  chief  engine  of  history.  You  and  I  are 
forced  into  our  channels  by  it.  Friend,  in  the  woods, 
you  and  I  may  challenge  the  world  to  match  us  in  happi- 
ness. Out  of  them  I  feel  myself  pulled  back  a  century 
or  so. — And  into  a  splash  of  shuddering  matter. 

By  the  way,  you  must  remember  that  the  Emperor  did 
not  make  the  grief  against  Prussia.  It  came  to  his 
hand.  It  was  deep  in  the  French  heart.  I  turn  to  the 
'  Book  of  Orm  '  and  find  a  refrain — • 

'  Grow,  Seed,  blossom.  Brain, 
Deepen,  deepen,  into  pain.' 

Title  of  piece  '  The  Devil's  Mystics.'     There  ! 
Again — 

*  God  feared  the  thing  He  fashioned 
And  fled  into  a  cloud  ! ' 

Public  of  Britain  !     Here  he  is — ^your  poet  ! 

'  Since  that  day,  with  cloudy  face, 
Of  His  own  handiwork  afraid, 
God  from  His  Heavenly  hiding-place 
Peered  at  the  thing  He  made.' 

Aha  !  If  He  made  Bismarck  and  Napoleon  according 
to  the  view  of  the  Stock  Exchange,  the  British  Spinster, 
Clericus  and  Press  (siding  for  once  with  their  betters), 
then  no  wonder  ! — I  would  not  mind  our  language  if  it 


212        LETTERS  OF  GEORGE  MEREDITH 

came  from  an  unselfish  people  :  but  a  people  notoriously 
craving  peace  for  comfort's  sake,  and  commerce's — they 
do  but  scold,  they  provoke  contempt. — I  regret  bitterly 
that  I  am  not  out  on  a  post  of  observation.  I  may  still 
go  for  a  month. — Your  loving         George  Meredith. 


To  Arthur  G.  Meredith. 


Box  Hill,  Dorking, 
England,  Oct.  25,  1870. 


My  dear  Arthur, —  ...  I  am  not  very  rich  at 
present,  but  I  don't  want  you  to  be  without  pocket- 
money  and  minor  comforts. — See  that  you  have  warm 
clothing  for  the  winter — all  that  is  really  needful  I  gladly 
pay  for.  I  leave  it  to  your  good  sense  to  take  measures 
to  avoid  chills,  and  to  take  daily  reasonable  exercise, 
and  not  to  walk  to  excess.  Your  gastric  attack  last  year 
will  serve  for  a  warning.  Don't  ever  sit  in  clothes  you 
have  sweated  in  :  the  trouble  of  going  upstairs  and 
'  grooming  '  yourself  saves  trouble,  and  worse,  in  the 
end.  Fellows  who  contract  illnesses  are  usually  guilty 
(I  don't  say  always)  of  indolence — carelessness  is  only 
one  form  of  indolence. — ^You  will  note  that  I  lay  stress 
on  the  physical  condition.  I  do  so  for  the  reason  that 
it  is  the  index  to  the  moral  condition  in  young  men.  It 
is  ten  to  one  that  a  healthy  lad  is  of  good  general  worth. 
If  not  physically  healthy  he  will  not  be  of  much  value. 
The  day  comes  when  we  are  put  to  the  test,  and  it  is  for 
this  day  we  should  prepare  with  cheerful  heart.  Don't 
imagine  me  to  be  lecturing  you.  I  have  favourable  re- 
ports of  you,  and  I  merely  repeat  simple  words  of  advice 
that  it  will  be  well  for  you  to  keep  in  mind. — Tell  Pro- 
fessor Zeller,  with  my  compliments,  that  if  there  is  a  fund 
for  the  wounded  soldiers  in  Stuttgart,  I  shall  be  glad  if 
he  will  put  my  name  down  for  the  subscription  of  £1, 


LETTERS  OF  GEORGE  MEREDITH        213 

which  he  can  charge  to  the  next  account.  I  cannot 
afford  more  just  now.  The  French  peasantry  around 
Sedan  claim  everything  of  us  that  we  can  give.  They 
are  barely  held  up  in  hfe  by  the  bread  we  are  able  to  fur- 
nish ;  and  a  third  of  France  will  be  demanding  succour 
in  the  winter.  Horrible  to  think  of  ! — But  do  not  let 
compassion  or  personal  sympathy  make  your  judgment 
swerve.  This  war  is  chargeable  upon  France,  and  the 
Emperor  is  the  Ivnave  of  the  pack.  Two  generations  of 
Frenchmen  have  been  reared  on  the  traditions  of  Napoleon- 
ism,  and  these  meant  the  infliction  of  wrongs  and  out- 
rages on  other  nations  for  the  glory  and  increase  of  their 
own.  They  elected  a  Napoleon  for  chief  because  of  his 
name,  and  in  spite  of  his  known  character.  It  is  said,  the 
French  peasantry  did  not  want  war  ;  that  their  ignorance 
offended  in  electing  this  man  ;  but  who  can  deny  that  it 
was  the  Napoleonic  prestige  which  gave  him  his  first  step 
to  the  throne  b}^  overwhelming  votes  ?  This  man  was  the 
expression  of  their  ignorance,  or  folly,  or  vanity  ;  he 
appealed  to  the  Napoleonism  in  them,  and  had  a  prompt 
response.  A  more  ignoble  spectacle  than  the  recrimina- 
tions of  Emperor  and  people  upon  one  another  as  to  the 
origin  of  the  war,  after  defeat,  history  does  not  show. 
The  Germans,  on  the  contrary,  reap  the  reward  of  a  per- 
sistently honourable  career  in  civic  virtue.  Consider 
what  the  meaning  of  civic  virtue  may  be.  It  comprises 
a  multitude  of  other  virtues.  As  to  German  boasting, 
why  the  English  also  are  great  boasters.  See  the  best 
in  those  about  you.  I  say  this,  and  I  admire  and  respect 
the  Germans,  and  God  knows  my  heart  bleeds  for  the 
French.  But  my  aim,  and  I  trust  it  will  be  yours,  is  never 
to  take  counsel  of  my  sensations,  but  of  my  intelhgence. 
I  let  the  former  have  free  play,  but  deny  them  the  right 
to  bring  me  to  a  decision.  You  are  younger,  have  a 
harder  task  in  doing  that ;    you  have  indeed  a  task  in 


214        LETTERS  OF  GEORGE  MEREDITH 

discerning  the  difference  between  what  your  senses  suggest 
and  what  your  mind.  However,  try  not  to  be  let  into 
some  degree  of  injustice  to  your  host,  the  German  people, 
out  of  pity  for  France. — We  had  a  capital  time  at  East- 
bourne, good  bathing,  Willie  paddling  up  to  his  knees  in 
salt  water  half  the  day.  Now  we  have  the  autumnal 
gales  and  Box  Hill  looking  on  the  last  colours  of  the  year. 
I  saw  your  Grandpapa  Meredith  on  my  way  to  Captain 
Maxse's  ;  he  had  been  unwell,  but  was  better  ;  he  asked 
after  you  and  so  did  Mrs.  M.  They  were  anxious  as  to 
your  situation  in  the  territory  of  war.  Captain  Maxse 
is  out  and  out  French  ;  ]\Ir.  Morison  intensely  German  ; 
ISIr.  Morley  and  I  do  our  utmost  to  preserve  an  even 
balance.  There  is  talk  of  an  armistice,  but  Paris  must 
fall  before  the  French  will  seriously  treat  for  peace. 
Count  Bismarck  gives  audience  to-day  to  that  deleterious 
little  Frenchman  Thiers,  who  has  been  poisoning  his 
countrymen  for  half  a  century,  and  now  runs  from  Court 
to  Court,  from  minister  to  minister,  to  get  help  to  undo 
his  own  direct  work.  Count  Bismarck  will  be  amused, 
for  he  has  a  keen  appreciation  of  comedy.  Philosophers 
would  laugh  aloud  at  the  exhibition  of  the  author  of  the 
'  Consulate  and  the  Empire  '  in  the  camp  at  Versailles. 
Modern  France  has  been  nourished  on  this  lying  book. — 
Here  in  Mickleham  we  are  naturally  anxious  about  the 
Nonancourt  ^  people.  The  latest  telegrams  say  that  the 
Germans  are  moving  on  Dreux — no  great  distance  from 
the  colony.  You  can  fancy  how  sad  the  Old  House  looks 
now  the  good  old  man  has  gone.^ — God  bless  you,  my  dear 
boy.  If  you  have  anything  to  narrate  of  the  war,  the 
wounded,  the  prisoners,  etc.,  it  might  be  useful  to  me. 
Train  your  eyes  to  observe,  and  while  they  are  at  that 

^  At  Nonancourt,  in  Normandy,  on  tho  Avre,  Mrs.  Meredith's  three 
brothers  livod  and  owned  wool-Ppinning  mills — close  neighbours  of  tho 
VVnddinglon  family,  owning  cotton  milln  on  tlie  same  river. 

*  The  death  of  Mr.  Justin  Vulliamy. 


LETTERS  OF  GEORGE  MEREDITH         215 

work  keep  the  action  of  your  mind  in  abeyance.  Young 
eyes  can  observe  shrewdly,  but  the  opinions  of  young  men 
are  not  quite  so  important. — I  am  your  loving  father, 

George  Meredith. 

To  William  Hardman. 

21  Cavendish  Place, 
Eastbouene,  Sussex. 

My  dearest  Tuck, — Motives  of  Economy  decided  us 
to  come  here,  much  to  my  regret.  We  were  at  Tongswood 
at  the  Cotterills',  and  it  was  cheap  to  run  to  the  Sussex, 
near  to  the  Isle  of  Wight,  coast.  But  0  you  !  had  you 
written  to  Holly  Hill  you  would  have  fetched  me  over  to 
Sandown,  and  I  should  have  fixed  the  bargain  with  a 
lodgement-letter.  I  remained  for  a  fortnight  atMaxse's 
yachting  when  the  gales  permitted  it.  Then  joined  Marie 
at  Tongswood,  good  air,  good  hostess  and  host.  East- 
bourne is  on  the  whole  pleasant.  This  salt-water  fetches 
me  round.  Tuck.     It  is  the  next  best  to  mountain  air. 

Marie  and  I  thanked  you  for  your  thorough  kind  letter. 
I  knew  how  you  would  both  feel  on  hearing  of  the  dear 
good  old  man's  death.  A  just  man,  not  lost  for  ever 
to  his  family,  for  the  example  of  such  a  man  is  a  constant 
presence.     But  a  dead  loss  to  the  poor. 

So  you  do  both  care  for  '  H.  Richmond.'  i  I  hoped  it. 
I  wish  some  one  like  Shirley  Brooks  would  let  it  be  known 
it 's  mine.  Lethbridge  tells  me  he  has  seen  it  attributed 
to  Lever  !  A  word  from  you,  Tuck,  in  the  august  Ear  of 
Punch,  anon,  anon,  sir.  Mind  and  tell  me  how  you  like 
it  as  you  go  on.  I  shall  have  another  to  follow  when 
'  Richmond  '  ceases,  and  so  by  drumming  may  make  the 
public  hear  me  at  least. — Oh  this  war.  I  burst  with  pity 
for  the  French,  but  can't  say  they  have  not  deserved 
defeat.     Was  ever  a  nation  so  shattered  ?     In  nothing 

*  The  Adventures  of  Harry  Richmond,  then  appearing  in  the  CornhiU 
Magazine. 


216        LETTERS  OF  GEORGE  MEREDITH 

have  they  done  well,  since  Napoleon  gave  the  wink  to 
Gramont  to  roar  in  the  Chamber. 

My  love  to  you  all  with  the  children.  Kisses  to  you 
and  them  from  Willie  Godson.  You  should  see  him  in  his 
paddle-boots  in  the  low-tide  pools. 

Tuck,  you  did  not  reply  to  my  letter  because  you  were 
working  for  Lee  Steere  and  Baggallay  !  Marie  will  write 
to  D'Troia  on  her  return  to  Box.  She  did  not  at  once 
owing  to  hesitation  as  to  the  course  to  take,  which  ulti- 
mately Economy,  our  damned  old  friend,  decided  for  us, 
and  not  badly,  except  for  the  loss  of  you  two  and  a  certain 
particular  quality  (I  fancy  it)  haunting  your  district. 

Have  I  made  it  plain  to  you  that  the  feelingness  of  your 
letter  to  Mickleham  was  much  felt  there  ?  I  've  no  more 
space,  Tuck,  dear  heart.  I  could  chatter  to  you  like  a 
summer  brook.  Adieu.  Imagine  me  talking  on  as  I 
do  from  hour  to  hour. — ^Your  loving 

George  Meredith. 

To  Arthur  G.  Meredith, 

Box  Hell,  Dorking, 
England,  Dec.  23,  1870. 

My  dearest  Arthur, — I  hope  you  will  get  this  letter 
on  the  morning  of  Christmas  Day  to  greet  yon  and  wish 
you  happiness,  strength,  and  fortune,  which  results  from 
the  two  former  gifts. — There  will  be  money  for  you. 
Meantime  if  you  are  in  want  of  funds,  you  can  apply  to 
the  Professor  for  assistance  with  my  sanction.  I  know 
I  can  rely  on  you  to  be  moderate,  and  you  in  turn  will  feel 
that  I  desire  you  to  have  sufficient  for  your  needs.  Sup- 
posing you  should  go  to  Heidelberg  for  a  few  days  you  must 
have  the  wherewithal.  Be  careful  to  be  warmly  clad. 
And  when  on  a  tour  have  a  care  of  your  tongue  and  your 
company.  The  Professor  says  you  do  not  consort  with 
Germans  at  all.     I  am  grieved  at  this.     I  am  sure  you 


LETTERS  OF  GEORGE  MEREDITH        217 

do  not  altogether  underrate  the  fine  qualities  of  German 
youth  ;  but  perhaps  your  immediate  sympathies,  and  a 
somewhat  exaggerated  sensitiveness,  stand  in  your  way. 
It  will  be  a  pity,  if  this  is  so,  and  for  more  reasons  than 
one.  If  you  do  not  cultivate  the  people  you  are  living 
amongst  in  your  youth,  you  will  fail  in  having  pleasant 
places  to  look  back  on — landmarks  of  your  young  days. 
And  besides,  the  Germans  are  your  hosts,  and  you  owe 
them  at  least  a  guest's  thankfulness.  I  esteem  them 
deeply  for  their  fine  moral  qualities.  Just  now  they  are 
abusing  us  roundly,  but  that  will  pass  away.  I  know 
they  have  the  capacity  for  friendship,  and  that  as  a  rule 
English  friendships  are  not  so  lasting.  Look  around  you, 
and  try  to  be  accessible  to  your  German  associates. 
Consider  whether  you  are  not  yielding  to  luxurious  pre- 
dispositions in  your  marked  preference  for  English  ones. 
You  will  see  enough  of  the  latter  when  you  return  here. — 
I  have  had  a  letter  from  Mr.  Jessopp,  in  which  he  sug- 
gests that  you  might  when  you  come  back  go  to  Oxford 
and  try  for  the  Taylour  Scholarship  in  modern  languages. 
Your  knowledge  of  German  might  give  you  a  chance. 
Are  you  sure  that  you  are  thoroughly  grounded  in  German 
to  stand  a  sharp  competitive  examination  ? — that  is,  to 
write  good  scholarly  German  prose  ;  and  perhaps  trans- 
late into  German  verse.  Set  to  your  mind  this  task. 
Let  me  hear  what  you  think  of  it.  By  winning  the 
Scholarship  you  might  be  on  your  way  to  a  fellowship. 
I  will  do  my  best  to  support  you  ;  that  you  may  be  sure 
of.  But  you  will  have  to  fall  to  work  rigorously.  Of 
course  I  hke  you  to  indulge  in  composition,  but  now  is 
the  time  to  store  facts,  to  sharpen  your  weapon,  to  make 
yourself  capable  by  serving  your  apprenticeship.  This 
is  what  the  Germans  do — they  serve  their  apprenticeship 
thoroughly  ;  and  as  they  are  not  critics  before  their  time, 
they  are  competent  critics  when  the  time  comes. 


218        LETTERS  OF  GEORGE  MEREDITH 

Don't  think  I  preach  too  much.  I  am  naturally 
anxious  about  you.  I  have  passed  through  the  wood,  and 
know  which  are  the  paths  to  take,  which  to  avoid.  By 
following  my  directions  you  wiU  spare  yourself  many 
troubles,  many  a  heartache. — IMr.  Morlcy,  who  is  an 
Oxford  man,  says  that  you  would  have  a  fair  chance  of 
the  Taylour  Scholarship,  if  you  have  a  grammatical  and 
literary  mastery  of  German.  You  would  have  to  choose 
two  languages.  Absolute  excellence  in  one  would  land 
you  victor.  IMr.  Swinburne  gained  the  Scholarship 
through  his  knowledge  of  French,  which  is  consummate. 
Probably  Professor  Max  MiiUer  would  be  one  of  the 
examiners. 

We  have  now  the  winter  on  us.  Let  me  hear  what  you 
are  doing,  and  how  it  fares  with  you.  You  never  speak 
of  the  other  fellows  hving  with  the  Professor.  Can  you 
make  nothing  of  them  ? — Have  you  had  your  interview 
with  Marshal  Canrobert  ?  Major  Poussielque  is  com- 
manding, I  believe,  at  Langres,  which  is  now  invested. 
Good-bye,  my  dear  boy,  and  God  be  with  you. — Your 
loving  father,  George  Meredith. 

Do  not  forget  to  present  my  warmest  compliments  and 
my  Christmas  greetings  to  Professor  Zeller  and  his  wife. 

To  Captain  Maxse. 

Kingston-on-Thames,  S.W.,  Christmas  1870. 
Yes,  Fred,  what  you  say  of  the  beautiful  picture 
presented  by  an  Ascetic  priesthood  which  shall  be  allowed 
marriage  that  one  child  of  the  union  may  reproduce  the 
cultivated  virtues  of  the  parents,  is  very  true.  Some- 
thing of  this  I  have  said  before  (though  you  will  not 
remember  it) ;  but  I  objected  and  still  object  to  the  priest- 
hood. Why  any  priesthood  ?  Surely  when  I  see  you 
walk  from  Holly  Hill  to  Bursledon  in  stole  and  cope  and 


LETTERS  OF  GEORGE  MEREDITH         219 

beretta  I  cannot  but  feel  at  times  that  you  undoubtedly 
have  what  I  confess  I  have  thought  once  or  twice  before 
— a  tendency  towards  extremes  ;  though  the  demure 
look  you  assume  is  very  becoming  and  eclipses  all  the 
curates  ever  dreamed  of  by  a  pulpit-stricken  virgin. 
But  I  object  to  your  taking  on  a  sacerdotal  garb.  It  is 
true  that  you  should  have  a  distinctive  dress,  and  I  think 
it  right  that  Purcell  should  have  one  hkewise.  The  Basin 
of  Miraculous  Water  which  he  carries  about  that  you  may 
rub  it  upon  the  stomachs  of  this  generation  would,  I  per- 
ceive clearly,  not  impress  mankind  with  a  proper  sense 
of  its  holiness,  if  you  and  he  were  not  peculiarly  attired, 
and  in  our  climate  you  would  not  (at  least  not  yet)  go 
about  Hke  a  couple  of  St.  Johns.  Still  I  demur  to  a 
priestly  garb — the  more  especially  when  I  bear  in  mind 
your  late  extraordinary  oration  against  One  who  turned 
the  Water  into  Wine — in  w^hich  you  so  violently  de- 
nounced Him  for  having  done  so.  Let  me  remark  paren- 
thetically that  I  do  not  deem  Him  unwise  or  misguided 
in  this  matter  :  but  you  will  declare  that  I  wish  to  force 
an  argument,  and  I  let  the  subject  pass.  That  the 
parents  should  be  separated  immediately  after  the  birth 
of  one  child,  is,  I  am  prepared  to  say,  a  mistake  in  your 
doctrine.  It  is  not  human.  You  state  that  you  have 
become  superhuman.  All  are  not  as  you,  however.  I 
have  read  in  the  '  Pali  Mall  Gazette  '  of  your  appalling  in- 
vasion of  the  banquet  given  by  the  Mayor  of  Southampton 
to  the  American  Plenipotentiaries  come  to  treat  for  the 
admission  of  Great  Britain  among  the  States  of  the  Union. 
It  appears  that  you  approve  the  policy  of  our  becoming 
one  Star  in  the  spangled  Banner.  I  have  myself  previ- 
ously advocated  the  measure.  But,  as  I  never  can  go 
so  far  as  you,  I  cannot  countenance  you  in  exclaiming 
that  you  are  the  Water  God  of  Hamble  Point,  and  then 
at  a  given  signal  to  Purcell,  making  cockshies  of  all  the 


220         LETTERS  OF  GEORGE  MEREDITH 

wine-bottles  on  the  Mayor's  hospitable  board,  and  drench- 
ing the  guests  with  water  from  an  enormous  hose  in 
connection  with  the  main-pipes.  Here  I  decidedly  join 
in  the  condemnation  of  you  pronounced  by  the  news- 
papers. Your  behaviour  was  essentially  tyrannical. 
That  I  was  prepared  for.  But  it  was  also  indiscreet,  for 
it  will  raise  the  masses  not  only  against  you  but  against 
the  element  you  adore.  If  every  one  of  these  American 
envoys  had  come  from  the  State  of  Maine,  you  would 
but  have  given  them  their  evening  dose.  As  it  is,  you 
have  disgusted  the  majority.  You  will  have  seen  my  de- 
fence of  you  in  the  '  Mg.  Pt.'  It  is  weak,  because  I  really 
could  not  say  much.  I  have  restrained  Morley's  hand 
both  in  the  '  Saturday '  and  the  '  Fortnightly.'  The 
joke  in  the  '  Times  ' — that  '  the  notorious  Naval  Captain 
who  walked  over  Hampshire  with  his  Neptune  behind 
him,  drew  the  water  which  he  dashed  at  the  people's 
bellies  from  his  brain,  and  had  apparently  an  inex- 
haustible supply  ' — is  neither  witty  nor  laughable.  But 
that  it  is  thought  wit,  and  is  laughed  at,  should  make 
you  reflect.  There  is  evidently  the  will  to  laugh.  I 
consider  this  a  damnatory  sign. 

I  know  your  rejoinder  perfectly. — Extremes  are  the 
chief  teachers  : — One  excess  corrects  another  ;  Truth 
must  out  in  any  shape.  Very  well.  In  December  of 
1866  I  was  finally  convinced  that  you  would  on  all  sub- 
jects take  your  own  course  ;  or  at  least  imagine  you  were 
doing  it  by  going  further  than  any  one  else  would  or 
dared  go.  Voila  !  The  poet  has  said,  Ire  necesse  est — 
we  must  go  on  :  and  each  in  his  own  way,  I  suppose. 
— I  have  just  finished  the  History  of  the  inextinguishable 
Sir  Harry  Firebrand  of  the  Beacon,  Knight  Errant  of  the 
19th  century,  in  which  mirror  you  may  look  and  see — My 
dear  Fred  and  his  loving  friend,       George  Meredith. 


LETTERS  OF  GEORGE  MEREDITH         221 

To  William  Hardman. 

Garrick  Club,  Dec.  26,  1870. 

My  dear  Lord  Mayor, — All  Cliristmas  honours  and 
delights  to  you  ! 

The  other  day  I  quietly  informed  Morley  of  your 
elevation. 1  Looking  at  him  (about  one  minute  subse- 
quently) I  saw  him  collecting  his  editorial  fragments 
with  a  hand  pressed  hard  on  his  fore  midriff.  He  faintly 
expressed  his  amazement,  but,  as  became  a  hero,  his 
first  thought  was  for  his  friend — Morison,  he  said,  must 
not  swallow  this  unheard-of  pill  without  due  preparation  : 
it  would  be  too  much  for  him  in  his  sad  state.  We 
agreed  to  concoct  a  rigmarole,  and  write  an  account 
of  a  Kingston  Pantomime  —  *  Tuck  Transformed  '  — 
telling  him  at  the  end  of  it  that  all  was  true.  Morley 
and  I  have  determined  at  the  first  intimation  of  success 
of  the  French  arms  to  get  up  a  subscription  for  an 

Apotheosis  of  Tuck. 

A  Christmas  table  of  Wild  Boar's  Head,  Ribs  of  Beef, 
Plum  P.  with  honest  hands  grasping 
below.     Blessedness  above — in  the 
Centre  the  Great  One  rising. 

At  Nonancourt  they  have  the  Uhlans. 

Henri  Poussielque  is  at  Langres  now  in  the  thick  of  it, 
a  good  soldier,  and  I  trust  he  may  be  spared.  Once  more. 
Tuck,  for  the  fortieth  time,  I  tell  you  to  look  at  my  '  Ode 
to  France  '  in  the  forthcoming  number  of  the  Fortnightly 
review. 

And  now  may  all  legitimate  pleasures  be  yours,  may 
your  wife  still  see  you  scaling  eminences,  and  accept  my 
love  and  esteem,  and  may  your  children  flourish,  as  I 
am  happy  to  state  that  Willie  Godson  does,  and  Arthur 
of  Stuttgart. — Your  cordial  George  Meredith. 

^  To  the  IMayoralty  of  Kingaton-on-Tlmmes. 


222        LETTERS  OF  GEORGE  MEREDITH 

To  Captain  Maxse. 

Box  Hill,  Dorking,  Jan.  3,  1871. 

My  dear  Fred, — Your  last  letter  from  Effingham  Hill 
reached  me  (with  the  date  on  the  envelope  Dec.  9)  on 
Sunday  morning,  open.  I  have  written  to  the  Post- 
master-General about  it. — According  to  appointment  I 
walked  up  to  Ranmore,  hailed  for  you  in  dense  fog,  and 
had,  hke  the  just  man,  nothing  but  the  sound  of  my  own 
voice  for  answer. 

Good  health  to  you  and  all  dear  to  you  this  New  Year  ! 
It  begins  lamentably.     We  need  to  be  braced. 

The  French  seem  upon  their  final  errand,  as  far  as 
Paris  is  concerned. — Tell  me  how  you  take  to  my  Ode  now 
that  you  have  it. — Karl  Bhnd's  article  is  good  :  Von 
Sybel  's  a  professorial  diversion — one  smells  the  cognac 
of  victory.  Still  I  like  him  and  note  in  him  curiousl}^ 
where  the  German  mind,  broad  though  it  is,  flattens. 
The  French  points  up.  That  the  two  should  not  be  in 
harmony  is  our  desperate  look  out.  Adieu,  my  dear 
]?red. — Your  loving  George  Meredith. 


To  Captain  Maxse. 

Box  Hill,  Dorkino,  Feb.  27,  1871. 

My  dear  Fred, —  .  .  .  Your  speech  reads  capitally.  1 
heard  from  Harrison  at  a  dinner  some  time  back  that 
you  spoke  well  at  the  London  meeting  ;  but  some  one 
told  me  that  you  obeyed  a  voice  bidding  you  '  cut  it 
short.'     Is  it  the  fact  ? 

Things  arc  saddening  enough  in  France.  But  I  do  not 
remember  the  gloomy  forecasts  following  the  Wars  of 
Napoleon  i.  ?  The  Germans  have  retaliated  in  coin. 
They  too  must  pay  for  it.  These  developments  only 
prove  that  our  speculations  were  more  advanced  than 


LETTERS  OF  GEORGE  MEREDITH         223 

realities.  Tlirough  such  a  course  of  teaching  men  must 
go.  Can  you  pretend  to  beheve  that  France  was  not  in 
need  of  the  bitterest  of  lessons  ?  Her  philosophers  said 
one  thing,  but  military  glory  stuck  to  the  passions  of  her 
people.  And  many  of  her  philosophers  allowed  them- 
selves to  be  hoodwinked  by  the  idea  that  France  should 
be  dominant '  for  the  good  of  mankind,'  instead  of  seeldng 
to  make  her  dominant  by  virtue  and  a  bright  example. 
She  trusted  to  the  sword  without  even  testing  her  steel. 
She  is  down.  I  grieve  for  her ;  I  detest  the  severities 
practised  upon  her.  But  I  cannot  forget  that  she  ap- 
pealed to  the  droit  du  plus  fort.  Nor  can  I  forget  that 
she  has  always  been  the  perturbation  of  Europe.  The 
Germans  may  be.  That  is  to  be  seen.  They  at  least 
are  what  they  pretend  to  be.  A  considerable  number 
of  cheap  prophets  have  followed  their  triumphant  march 
howling.  I  prefer  to  wait  without  prophesying.  Let 
France  train  a  virtuous  democracy,  and  she  will  spring 
a  mine  in  Germany  amply  to  be  revenged  on  the  Hohen- 
zollerns.  Her  cries  of  vengeance  now  are  after  the 
pattern — too  shockingly  similar  ! — of  Ancient  Pistol. 
She  '  eats  and  ene  she  swears.' 

What  I  wish  is  that  you  and  I  should  look  to  the  good 
future  of  men  with  some  faith  in  it,  and  capacity  to 
regard  current  phases  of  history  without  letting  our  sen- 
sations bhnd  and  bewilder  us.  I  am  neither  German 
nor  French,  nor,  unless  the  nation  is  attacked,  English. 
I  am  European  and  Cosmopolitan — for  humanity  !  The 
nation  which  shows  most  worth,  is  the  nation  I  love  and 
reverence. 

Confess  that  the  French  have  conducted  themselves 
like  mere  children  throughout.  The  probation  may 
accelerate  their  growth  and  bring  their  practice  up  to  their 
best  professions.  The  Germans  have  behaved  as  the 
very  sternest  of  men,  caring  more  for  their  Fatherland 


224        LETTERS  OF  GEORGE  MEREDITH 

than  for  the  well-being  of  men  in  the  mass.  I  am  suscep- 
tible of  admiration  of  their  sterling  qualities,  holding 
nevertheless  that  they  will  repent  of  the  present  selfish 
restriction  of  their  views. — Rage  at  me,  Fred  !  It  is 
better  to  bend  the  knee  to  Wisdom  than  march  in  the 
chorusing  ranks  of  the  partizans. — I  think  with  pain 
that  the  Germans  enter  Paris  this  very  day  !  But  the 
City  is  not  a  '  holy  City  '  for  me.  The  astonishing  de- 
lusion which  makes  Frenchmen  think  it  so  is  one  proof 
of  rudderless  brains.  Morley  is  not  *  German.'  He 
agrees  with  me  that  it  would  have  been  a  silly  madness  to 
create  a  terrible  and  a  justly  wrathful  enemy  for  ourselves 
(looking  to  the  origin  of  this  war),  on  the  chance  of 
securing  a  frenzied,  fantastical  ally.  So  will  you  in  time. 
Generous  sympathies  hold  you  spell-bound. — Your  ever 
loving  George  Meredith. 

To . 

Box  Hill,  March  23,  1871. 

My  dear , — I  will  answer  as  plainly  as  you  have 

written.  I  cannot  but  be  shocked  and  grieved  to  think 
of  the  effect  my  manner  of  speaking  has  had  in  clashing 
with  your  '  opinions,  ideas,  and  hkings.'  But  that  this 
should  prompt  you  to  tell  me  that  it  makes  my  society 
seem  baneful  to  you  ;  and  that  only  with  me  do  you 
suffer  the  consciousness  that  you  fail  to  get  new  strength, 
and  that  your  complaint  of  me  is  not  captious  because 
I  am  the  only  friend  who  has  ever  caused  you  to  com- 
plain— these  are  accusations  which  point  in  one  direction, 
that  is,  to  the  end  of  our  intimacy.  You  consent  to  say 
that  upon  the  larger  matters  we  are  one.  I  have  thought 
so,  and  have  considered  the  minor  differences  too  small 
to  dwell  on,  the  possible  expression  of  them  by  one  or 
the  other  of  us  too  mean  a  subject  for  the  preciousness 
of  friendship  in  our  short  life  to  brood  on.     For  I  am 


LETTERS  OF  GEORGE  MEREDITH  225 

sensitive,  and  I  likewise  have  thought  myself  here  and 
there  roughly  used  by  you.     But  I  pardoned  the  offend- 
ing minute  when  the  hour  had  struck,  and  never  thought 
of  identifying  the  offence  with  my  friend.     I  chose  to 
blame  myself,  as  the  safer  way  of  closing  a  slight  wound. 
It  seems  that  I  have  been  roughening  you  for  six  months. 
When  I  last  came  over  to  you  I  was  bright  with  the 
happiness  of  being  with  you,   and  I  remember  I  de- 
nounced (as  I  supposed  I  might  do  to  a  friend)  a  poem 
that  struck  me  as  worthless.     I  spoke  like  a  man  coming 
off  a  country-road  fasting.     It  may  be  too  often  my 
manner.     I  might  well  think  my  friend  would  not  let 
it  Uve  with  him,  and  that  he  knew  my  mind  better  than 
to  allow  a  sense  of  variance  to  spring  from  such  differ- 
ences in  open  talk.     Possibly  a  nature  that  I  am  proud 
to  know  never  ceases  in  its  growth,  is  passing  now  through 
some  delicate  stage  which  finds  me  importimate  ;    or 
you  feel  that  you  have  outstripped  me,  and  are  tempted 
to  rank  me  with  the  vulgar.     I  can  bring  a  thousand 
excuses  for  a  letter  that  I  have  read  often  to  assure  myself 
it  is  among  the  things  which  are,  but  arrive  only  at  the 
conclusion  I  have  named.     We  will  see  one  another  as 
Httle  as  we  can  for  two  or  three  years,  and  by  and  by 
may  come  together  again  naturally.     And  if  not,  you 
will  know  I  am  glad  of  the  old  time,  am  always  proud 
of  you,  always  heart  in  heart  with  you  on  all  the  great 
issues  of  our  life,  and  in  all  that  concerns  your  health 
and  fortunes.     I  suffer  too  much  to-day  to  desire  that 
any  explanation  should  restore  us  to  our  past  footing. 
Almost   I  am  tempted  to  hope  that  I  am  quite  valueless 
to  you,  for  as  I  am  not  a  man  to  send  such  a  letter  as  you 
have  just  written  to  me,  without  deeply  weighing  every 
word  in  it  and  probable  signification  of  its  burden  to  the 
reader,  or  without   weighing  my  feelings   well   against 
my  friend's,  so  I  am  not  the  man  to  receive  one  -without 
VOL.  I. — p 


226        LETTERS  OF  GEORGE  MEREDITH 

determining  to  abandon  a  position  that  has  exposed  me 
to  be  womided.  What  you  have  permitted  yourself  to 
write,  and  I  to  quote  from  you,  cuts  friendship  to  the 
ground.  That  I  should  be  the  only  one  of  your  friends 
ever  to  have  done  you  harm,  is  not  a  nice  distinction  to 
reflect  on.  But  I  think  I  have  said  enough.  I  have 
answered  you  plainly  and  fully,  and  as  to  a  sane  man 
master  of  the  meaning  of  his  words  and  meaning  exactly 
what  they  commonly  convey. — I  am  ever  yours  faith- 
fully and  warmly,  George  Meredith. 


To  Arthur  G.  Meredith. 

Gaerick  Club,  June  12,  1871. 

My  dear  Arthur, — The  enclosed  letter  will  intro- 
duce you  to  a  lady  who  is  the  mother  of  (I  met  him  at 
]Mr.  Benecke's  at  Mickleham,  three  days  before  the  de- 
claration of  war  last  year)  a  Lieutenant  von  Schweizer- 
barth,  a  very  gallant  young  officer.  I  have  the  letter 
from  his  brother,  and  I  wish  you  to  know  him  ;  from 
what  I  saw  of  him  he  is  a  gentleman,  and  I  shall  be  glad 
to  hear  that  you  have  made  his  acquaintance.  He  was, 
I  beheve,  in  all  the  chief  actions  and  battles  of  the  Wiir- 
temberg  army,  and  before  Paris,  and  fought  at  Le  Bourget. 
He  constantly  sent  communications  to  his  mother  during 
the  progress  of  the  war,  and  these  were  forwarded  to 
IVIickleham  and  were  singularly  modest  and  very  inter- 
esting. Let  me  know  whether  you  have  seen  him  when 
you  next  write. 

To-morrow  is  your  birthday,  my  dear  boy,  and  we 
all  wish  you  happiness.  I  put  down  £2  as  a  tip  to  you, 
and  you  will  receive  £10  out  of  my  money  order  to  Pro- 
fessor Zeller  for  your  journey  either  on  the  Danube  or 
where  you  will.     Out  of  this  £12  I  suppose  you  will  find 


LETTERS  OF  GEORGE  MEREDITH  227 

enough.  I  know  that  when  I  was  a  lad  it  would  have 
made  me  jump  hke  the  French  statue  of  Freedom  on  the 
column  of  the  Bastille.  The  trip  you  propose  looks 
promising.  As  to  Vienna,  you  are  quite  aware  of  my 
objections  to  your  going  there.  Still  if  you  give  me  your 
word  to  behave  honourably  I  shall  not  oppose  your  going. 
Dr.  Sana's  last  address  in  Vienna  was  No.  5  Kleeblatt- 
gasse  near  the  Graben.  I  am  sm-e  he  would  be  delighted 
to  see  you,  but  whether  he  is  in  Vienna  now  I  cannot  tell. 
Captain  Brackenbury  lives  in  England.  He  was  '  Times  ' 
Correspondent  with  the  army  of  Prince  Frederick-Charles 
from  Orleans  to  Le  Mans.  If  you  see  Dr.  Sana,  perhaps 
he  will  take  you  round  the  beautiful  HoUenthal  and  up 
the  Schneeberg,  as  he  did  me,  and  it  would  be  capital 
fun  for  you.  The  Schneeberg  is  about  eight  hours  from 
Vienna  (that  is,  you  will  be  near  the  Chalets  in  that  time). 
Go  to  the  Belvedere  at  Vienna  ;  the  pictures  are  notable  ; 
there  are  superb  Titians.  The  hotel  Stadt  Frankfort 
has  good  cookery,  and  if  you  mount  to  the  third  floor  is 
not  dear.  It  is  close  to  the  Graben,  and  is  therefore  the 
most  central  place  you  could  find,  though  a  little  dearer 
than  some  of  the  suburb  hotels,  which  are,  however, 
dirty,  I  am  told. — But  here  is  your  Aunt  Sarah  inviting 
you  to  Dauphine  again.  What  do  you  say  ?  It  rests  with 
you  to  decide  upon  your  com^se.  At  any  rate,  WTite  to 
her. — On  the  10th  your  Mama  presented  us  with  a  little 
girl  ;  so  besides  a  brother  you  have  now  a  sister,  and  I 
hope  no  more.  Mother  and  babe  are  in  excellent  con- 
dition. I  think  I  shall  be  at  Stuttgart  some  time  in 
August.  This  is  not  certain  ;  it  depends  on  supplies, 
but  I  want  very  much  to  see  you  and  shall  do  my  utmost 
to  come. — ^Your  loving  father,        Geokge  Meredith. 


228  LETTERS  OF  GEORGE  MEREDITH 

To  Arthur  Cecil  Blunt. 

Box  Hill,  Dorking,  July  4,  1871. 

Mr  DEAR  Bltint, — Would  it  suit  you  as  well  to  come 
on  Saturday  week  ?  Some  one  makes  a  point  of  asking 
me  to  leave  home  on  Simday,  and  it  strikes  me  that  wet 
weather  on  this  small  and  (except  in  babies)  barren  crib 
would  act  evilly  on  your  nervous  system.  But,  as  I  want 
you  to  come  to  walk  you  over  these  hills,  decide  positively 
for  this  Saturday  if  you  are  engaged  for  the  following 
Saturday.  Now  this  is  plain.  In  any  case  prepare  to 
tramp,  fair  or  foul.     And  write  to  me. — Your  faithful 

George  Meredith. 

To  Captain  Maxse. 

Box  Hill,  DoiiKiKa,  Julij  11,  1871. 

My  dear  Fred, — Wilhe  is  delighted  with  his  toy,  and 
aU  day  long  we  hear  shots  and  may  see  men  transformed 
into  women  in  a  jifify — to  the  mockery  of  the  actual ! — 
Will  your  poet's  dreams  ever  bring  us  to  the  happy  state 
of  toys,  that  one  crack  in  the  eye  may  turn  a  hairy  beast 
into  a  lovely  beauty  ?  You  quote  your  poets,  Fred,  and 
expect  them  to  perform  just  similar  prodigies.  Not  what 
should  be,  but  what  can,  as  a  step  thereunto,  is  the 
reasonable  aim.  Nor  will  any  of  your  pop-guns  pelleted 
with  uncompromising  decisions  affect  much  the  existing 
state  of  things,  though  they  will,  I  often  fear,  wear  you 
out  before  your  time.  You  do  well,  and  even  nobly, 
but  you  are  one  half  wrong,  for  you  go  against  nature, 
and  nature  says  that  to  work  soundly  the  creature  must 
be  in  that  state  of  contentment  to  which  philosophy 
points  you  and  poetry  elevates  you.  You  deny  to  man 
the  right  to  be  in  this  state  while  there  is  one  miserable 
upon  the  earth,  and  you  deny  to  the  little  ones  peace 
in  their  infancy  because  of  the  existence  of  error.     To 


LETTERS  OF  GEORGE  MEREDITH        229 

put  it  in  one  word,  the  cliaracter  of  your  opposition  is 
impatience.     Adieu. — I  love  you,  and  am  yours, 

George  M. 

To  William  Hardman. 

Box  Hill,  Nov.  2  (1871). 

Dearest  Tuck, — Our  letters  have  crossed.  Yours 
has  given  me  great  pleasure.  The  hand  of  the  workman 
is  inspired  by  praise,  and  I  know  that  you  and  the  un- 
purchaseable D'Troia  never  give  it  but  honestly. 

It  struck  me  that  a  perusal  of  the  book  ^  without  en- 
forced pauses  might  lead  you  to  see  that  the  conception 
was  full  and  good,  and  was  honestly  worked  out.  I 
resisted  every  temptation  to  produce  great  and  startling 
effects  (after  the  scene  of  the  Statue,  which  was  per- 
missible in  art,  as  coming  from  a  boy  and  coloured  by  a 
boy's  wonder). 

Note,  as  you  read,  the  gradual  changes  of  the  growing 
Harry,  in  his  manner  of  regarding  his  father  and  the 
world.  I  have  carried  it  so  far  as  to  make  him  perhaps 
dull  towards  adolescence  and  young  manhood,  except 
to  one  studying  the  narrative — as  in  the  scenes  with 
Dr.  Julius.  Such  effects  are  deadly  when  appearing  in 
a  serial  issue.  I  was  here  and  there  hand-tied,  too,  by 
gentlemanly  feeling  in  relation  to  the  reigning  Royal 
House,  sweet  Tory  Tuck  !  or  I  should  (and  did  on  paper) 
have  launched  out.  The  Speech  at  the  City  Banquet 
would  have  satisfied  a  Communist  Red  originally.  And 
I  had  planned  startling  doings  for  the  season  of  the 
Grand  Parade.  But  I  constrained  myself.  I  suppose 
I  am  unlucky,  for  I  hear  the  novel  does  not  move.  It  is 
confounded  by  Mudie  with  the  quantity  coming  out. 

Let  me  hear  of  your  address  at  Horsham. 

Shall  you  have  your  Gold  Barge  on  the  Mole  to  float 

^  The  Adventures  of  Harry  Richmond. 


230  LETTERS  OF  GEORGE  MEREDITH 

dowTi  to  Kingston  in  ?  If  so,  I  should  like  to  accompany 
you.  I  have  often  desired  to  eat  a  swan  on  board,  and 
see  my  countrymen  kneeling  on  the  tow-path  as  the  pro- 
cession goes  by. 

We  have  decided  to  enlarge  our  cottage,  if  the  walls 
will  stand  it,  and  then  we  shall  have  a  spare  bedroom 
for  friends,  and  you  will  visit  us.  Even  now — we  have 
hardly  the  courage  to  suggest  it — you  could  have  our 
room  at  the  Burford  Inn,  and  pass  a  day  or  two  in  this 
region,  walking  about  as  in  the  period  when  you  mooned 
musically  over  the  tantalizing  siege.  Reply  to  this 
point  at  your  leisure. — Do  you  think  that  Shirley  Brooks  "^ 
would  care  to  read  Richmond  ?  I  don't  know  his 
address  in  Regent's  Park. 

The  babes  are  well.  Willie  Godson  has  arrived  at 
the  stage  of  younker,  and  in  him  our  dwelling  has  to 
rejoice  that  it  possesses  all  in  one,  a  perpetually  rolling 
barrel,  an  incessant  trumpet,  a  fife  indifferently  per- 
formed upon,  a  door  creaking  to  every  wind,  a  questioning 
machine,  a  hive  of  bees  gone  mad  in  the  solstice  and 
mistaking  our  ears  for  honey-bells — add  on  a  cat,  or  its 
gut,  striving  after  melody  untaught.  When  haply  I 
want  to  finish  a  last  volume  by  sending  a  troublesome  old 
gentleman  to  Bedlam,  I  shall  bring  the  Younker  on  the 
scene,  who  will  finish  him  quicldy. 

Marie  Eveleen  has  shown  a  taste  for  dancing.  I  gave 
her  inadvertently  a  first  lesson,  and  am  now  her  marked 
victim.  She  will  have  me,  and  I  have  to  dance  her,  and 
sing  her,  and  trot  about  the  room  until,  I  assure  you, 
half  an  hour  of  it  is  equal  to  as  much  of  dumb-bells. 

She  was  Jennerated  last  week,  and  has  taken  well, 
is  a  new  woman.  Adieu. — My  love  to  you  all,  and  I 
am  ever  your  affectionate  G.  M. 

^  Then  editing  Punch. 


LETTERS  OF  GEORGE  MEREDITH         231 

To  Tom  Taylor. 

Box  HriiL,  DoKKiNG,  Nov.  18,  1871. 

My  dear  Tom, — How  I  envy  you  the  new  subject  you 
have  chosen  !  ^  It  has  been  ringing  through  me  all  the 
morning.  I  feel  like  a  man  who  has  been  introduced 
to  the  beautiful  woman  of  a  friend,  and  foimd  her  in- 
comparable, made  for  him  himself,  and  all  he  can  do  is 
to  cry  out  in  honesty — take  warning  if  you  don't  espouse 
her  within  a  fortnight,  and  further,  if  even  then  you  don't 
do  justice  to  her,  positive  and  spiritual,  I  feel  myself 
released  from  the  obligation  to  respect  your  claims,  I 
will  challenge  your  reputation,  and  I  will  beat  her  forth- 
with, in  contempt  of  you. 

Why  not  first  write  the  story,  and  then  dramatize  it  ? 
It  would  make  as  lovely  a  story  as  striking  a  drama. 
For  the  latter  it  has  every  splendid  and  noble  quality. 
Oh  !  you  happy  fellow.  But  be  worthy  of  your  luck. 
Let  nothing  delay  you, — I  repeat  my  first  warning. 

What  I  just  fear  is,  that  you  will  make  the  brother  a 
villain.  Give  him  some  higher  ground  of  action,  drop 
villany.  There  is  here  a  chance  of  lending  the  theme 
a  touch  of  old  tragedy  of  the  classic  idea.  For  this  pur- 
pose of  course  you  must  heighten  the  hero's  character, 
and  have  him  to  be  more  than  a  simple  captain  of  horse. 
Jacobitism  could  hardly  inspire  him  :  the  sense  of  fealty 
might,  and  it  might  give  occasion  to  put  stress  on  the 
ancient  notion  of  loyal  sentiment  to  a  race  in  a  young 
man's  heart — inherited.  The  brother  then,  standing  for 
law,  order,  and  the  Hke,  might  think  the  State  had  reason 
to  dread  this  youth.  The  sister  would  take  the  woman's 
view.  Then  you  have  the  three  in  a  perfect  triangle,  fit 
for  your  best  powers — or  mine. 

1  Rofors  to  Tom  Taylor's  play,  Lady  Clancarty,  or  Wedded  and  Wooed, 
first  produced  at  the  Royal  Olympic  Theatre,  March  9,  1874. 


232  LETTERS  OF  GEORGE  MEREDITH 

The  above  only  to  throw  you  a  modest  hint  from  your 
hasty  outHne. — Ever  lovingly  yours, 

George  Meredith. 

To  John  Morley. 

Box  Hill,  Dec.  7,  1871. 

My  dearest  M., — .  .  .  Oh  Heavens  !  what  treachery, 
I  heard  of  it  on  Sunday  at  Effingham  Hill.  And  without 
consulting  me  !  One  comfort  is,  you  haven't  a  tree  on 
the  Estate — not  a  shrub.^  Why,  I  know  the  house.  I 
inspected  it — I  rejected  it  long  before  you  had  an  idea 
of  it !  But  I  confess  I  'm  jealous  now  you  have  really 
gone  and  made  it  your  own. 

Now  to  business — I  have  a  Grand  Ode  to  France — 
called  simply  '  France  1870  '  :  from  my  point  of  view 
of  sympathy  and  philosophy  ;  which  I  think  is  ours. 
Latterly  I  have  felt  poetically  weakened  by  the  pressure 
of  philosophical  reflection,  but  this  is  going,  and  a  fuller 
strength  comes  of  it,  for  I  believe  I  am  within  the  shadow 
of  the  Truth,  and  as  it 's  my  nature  to  sing  I  may  now 
do  well.  The  amount  of  space  will  possibly  be  4  or  4| 
pages.  Do  not  print  it  too  close.  I  will  send  it  on 
Monday  or  Tuesday  next ;  and  I  should  wish  you  to 
forward  a  proof  to  Harrison  as  well  as  to  me,  that  I  may 
have  his  opinion  on  it,  if  he  will  be  so  condescending  as 
to  give  it,  with  possible  suggestions,  before  the  hour  for 
returning  to  printer. — Let  me  hear  from  you  that  you 
will  take  it.  I  can  say  that  it 's  worth  a  place,  but  there 
should  not  be  delay  in  outing  with  it.  If  you  won't  I 
must,  and  0  my  poor  purse  ! 

Fred  as  usual.  He  declares  he  knows  a  lady — a  great 
novel-reader — who  finds  *  Harry  Richmond '  quite  unin- 
telligible in  parts.     He  advises  me  in  these  serious  times 

^  Refers  to  Mr.  Morley  having  taken  Pitfield — a  white  house  stand- 
ing on  the  south  side  of  the  Hogsback  on  the  road  near  Puttenham  and 
midway  between  Guildford  and  Farnham. 


LETTERS  OF  GEORGE  MEREDITH         233 

'  to  tako  to  political  writing.'  I  reply  that  it  demands 
special  study.  He  insists  that  I  have  only  to  give  my 
genuine  convictions.  I  admit  the  novelty  in  newspaper 
writing  but  urge  its  insufficiency.  '  Not  at  all,'  says  he. 
I  am  to  be  allowed  to  produce  one  vol.  novels  on  Questions 
of  the  Day.  Morley  is  quoted  as  being  utterly  of  his 
opinion.  I  propose  to  him  an  Opera  libretto  to  popularise 
the  Democratic  movement  and  bring  our  chief  personages 

before  the  eyes  of  the  nobility.     0 in  love  with  the 

Princess  L meditates  the  enlevement  of  the  lady  that 

he  may  breed  Radicals  from  Royalty  :    delivers  idea  in 

ballad.     B ,  impressionable  to  poetry  and  music,  is 

half  won,  but  checked  by  religious  sentiment : — Ballad — 
The  Waverer. 

Fred  savagely  :  '  Good  God  !  How  you  can  spout 
buffoonery  in  times  like  these  !  ' 

Pathetic  ballad  by  M.  '  In  times  like  these.' 

The  poor  fellow  danced  with  disgust.  He  is  fast 
assombrissant  tout  entier. 

Your  article  on  Byron  admirable  :  nothing  so  good  yet 
written  of  him  and  from  the  highest  view.  I  confessed 
to  Fred  that  if  I  could  write  like  that  I  would  write  more 
prose.  He  groaned.  He  has  a  private  chamber  of 
groans.  George  Meredith. 

PS. — ^I  sent  Greenwood  a  review  of  an  imaginary  vol. 
of  poems, '  Armageddon,  etc.,'  dedicated  to  Dr.  Gumming 
of  Scotland.  The  wretch  posted  proofs,  but  his  courage 
seems  to  have  failed  him. 


To  Arthur  G.  Meredith. 

Box  Hill,  Dorking, 
England,  Dec.  16,  1871. 

My    dear   Arthur, — Give    my   warmest   regards    to 
Florrie    when    you    arrive    at    Heidelberg.     I    think    it 


234         LETTERS  OF  GEORGE  MEREDITH 

remarkably  kind  of  her  to  invite  you — though  I  am  sure 
you  make  your  companionship  worth  having.  I  shall 
be  delighted  to  have  a  letter  from  Heidelberg.  The 
OdenAvald  in  winter  must  be  fine  :  not  so  suggestive  of 
Ossian  as  a  land  of  crag  and  mist,  but  with  a  grandeur 
of  its  own.  As  to  Ossian  and  Homer,  your  choice  re- 
presents a  phase  of  thoughtful  youth.  Ossian's  imagery 
is  intangible.  Homer's  is  all  concrete.  Homer's  comes 
up  from  the  heart  of  Nature.  Ossian's  is  somewhat 
forced,  and  seems  due  to  a  sentimental  habit  and  the 
imperiousness  of  sentiment  in  colouring  all  of  its  own 
hue.  The  Homeric  battles,  Councils  and  speeches  are 
still  as  fresh  as  ever  owing  to  the  naturalness  of  the 
imagery,  the  vigour  of  the  flow,  the  manly  music  of  the 
lines.  The  death  of  Patroclus,  the  grieving  of  Achilles, 
are  imperishable  things  ;  the  parting  of  Hector  and 
Andromache,  the  elderly  Troy  looking  at  Helen  and 
other  scenes  : — and  observe,  that  all  the  characters  are 
distinct,  painted  without  effort,  but  with  the  sharp 
outhne  of  life. — Of  course  you  must  make  allowance  for 
the  ancient  spirit :  and  the  truth  is,  the  modern  tone 
(under  the  guise  of  a  weird,  primeval,  mystical  melody 
and  system  of  verse)  is  what  catches  you.  I  am  not  at 
all  sorry,  and  you  have  good  examples — Napoleon  was 
once  in  love  with  Ossian.  It  has  the  same  effect  on  the 
young  as  ruins  of  castles  and  abbej^'s  seen  by  moonlight. 
The  more  imaginative  and  the  sensitive  are  sure  to  like 
him  best,  but  there  is  not  a  doubt  as  to  which  is  the 
greater  poet.  In  fact  you  are  of  an  age  to  like  the  minor 
song,  and  not  quite  to  appreciate  the  great  organ-notes. 
I  have  known  a  period  when  I  would  rather  have  been 
reading  Tennyson  than  Shakespeare  :  so  you  see  you 
have  an  example.  I  wish  I  had  time  to  write  on.^ — Your 
loving  father,  George  Meredith. 


LETTERS  OF  GEORGE  MEREDITH         235 

To  Captain  Maxse. 

Box  Hill,  Dorking,  March  21,  1872. 

My  dear  Fred, — All  thanks  to  you  for  your  thought- 
fulness  about  Arthur,  into  whose  future  I  wish  to  see  a 
path.  But  it  would  be  impossible  to  get  him  over  to 
compete,  with  a  fair  chance,  within  a  couple  of  months, 
and  I  confess  I  shrink  from  the  idea  of  his  going  to  China. 
He  is  having  a  good,  thorough  education,  and  is  obser- 
vant and  interested  in  European  affairs,  and  to  him  the 
East  would  seem  banishment ;  and  for  what  ?  There 
would  be  httle  chance  of  his  rising,  I  apprehend.  Don't 
think  me  hard  to  please.  I  am  very  anxious  about  him. 
Should  you  have  further  information  in  praise  of  this 
service,  I  should  like  to  hear  it,  but  I  shudder  at  the 
thought  of  losing  sight  of  the  boy  altogether. 

The  behaviour  of  the  House  of  Commons  was  filthy. 
They  are  at  red  heat  of  loyalty,  and  I  am  persuaded  that 
men  anxious  to  serve  the  public  would  be  wiser-minded 
in  timing  their  motions.  Think  of  it ! — after  the  English 
have  just  seen  a  Republic  overthrown  by  a  Monarchy, 
they  are  expected  to  listen  with  decency  to  a  pair  of 
avowed  Republicans  ! — and  their  Prince  only  lately  well 
out  of  a  typhoid  bed  !     It  is  asking  too  much  of  them. 

I  should  have  liked  to  go  up  to  the  lecture,  but  it  in- 
volved leaving  home  for  a  night,  and  work  for  a  morning, 
and  I  am  hurrying  a  new  performance.  When  it  is  printed 
send  me  a  copy.     I  like  the  headings. 

JMiUicent  Maxse  ! 
Hark  at  it ! 

Miss  Millicent  Maxse  was  fond  of  lier  Ma, 

And  chanted  her  aristocratic  tra-la 

In  contempt  of  her  stern  democratic  Papa, 

And  to  spite  him  she  married  a  Markis — ha  !  ha  ! 

It  won't  do.     It 's  horrid.     It  dances  on  the  m's  hoydenly. 


236        LETTERS  OF  GEORGE  MEREDITH 

Marie  suggests  Violet.  .  .  .  Geraldine  is  charming. 
Leila,  Gwendolen.  Maxse  will  take  anything  but 
Millicent. — Emilia  Maxse  gets  a  better  accent.  Millicent 
avaunt !  It 's  a  proper  parson's  wife's  name  ;  it  over- 
flows with  female  priggery.  You  have  to  lift  the  nose 
to  enounce  it. 

I  am  glad  you  take  to  Davis.  We  have  a  great  regard 
for  her,  and  know  her  to  be  a  single-minded  brave  old 
woman. — Yours  ever,  George  Meredith. 


To  Arthur  G.  Meredith. 


Box  Hill,  Dorking,  Surrey, 
England,  April  25,  1872. 


My  dear  Arthur, — .  .  .  Strong  friendships  and  inter- 
communications with  foreigners  will  refresh  your  life  in 
this  island,  and  the  Germans  are  solid.  Stick  to  a  people 
not  at  the  mercy  of  their  impulses,  and  besides  a  people 
with  so  fine  a  Hterature  must  be  worthy  of  love. — Captain 
Maxse  wrote  to  me  the  other  day  about  an  examination 
in  the  Foreign  Office  for  the  post  of  Chinese  interpreter — ■ 
for  you  :  if  successful  to  go  out  to  China  with  a  salary 
of  £200  per  annum  and  learn  the  Chinese  tongue  of 
li-ro  and  fo-ki.  I  declined  it :  I  hope  I  was  right.  I  felt 
sure  that  it  would  be  repugnant  to  you  to  spend  your  life 
in  China,  where  the  climate  is  hard,  society  horrid,  life 
scarcely  (to  ray  thought)  endurable.  Perhaps  you  might 
have  chosen  Japan.  But  it  would  have  been  for  very- 
many  years  perpetual  banishment.  Let  me  hear  what 
you  think  of  it. — Study  Cicero  carefully.  He  is  a  fine 
moralist,  a  friend  of  scholars,  a  splendid  trainer  for  a 
public  life  of  any  serious  and  exalted  ambition. — What 
you  say  of  our  religion  is  what  thoughtful  men  feel : 
and  that  you  at  the  same  time  can  recognise  its  moral 


LETTERS  OF  GEORGE  MEREDITH         237 

value,  is  matter  of  rejoicing  to  me.  The  Christian  teach- 
ing is  sound  and  good  :  the  ecclesiastical  dogma  is  an 
instance  of  the  poverty  of  humanity's  mind  hitherto, 
and  has  often  in  its  hideous  fangs  and  claws  shown 
whence  we  draw  our  descent. — Don't  think  that  the 
obscenities  mentioned  in  the  Bible  do  harm  to  children. 
The  Bible  is  outspoken  upon  facts,  and  rightly.  It  is 
because  the  world  is  pruriently  and  stupidly  shamefaced 
that  it  cannot  come  in  contact  with  the  Bible  without 
convulsions.  I  agree  with  the  Frommen  that  the  book 
should  be  read  out,  for  Society  is  a  wanton  hypocrite, 
and  I  would  accommodate  her  in  nothing  :  though  for 
the  principle  of  Society  I  hold  that  men  should  be  ready 
to  lay  down  their  lives.  Belief  in  the  religion  has  done 
and  does  this  good  to  the  young  ;  it  floats  them  through 
the  perilous  sensual  period  when  the  animal  appetites 
most  need  control  and  transmutation.  If  you  have  not 
the  belief,  set  yourself  to  love  virtue  by  understanding 
that  it  is  your  best  guide  both  as  to  what  is  due  to  others 
and  what  is  for  your  positive  personal  good.  If  your 
mind  honestly  rejects  it,  you  must  call  on  your  mind  to 
supply  its  place  from  your  own  resources.  Otherwise  you 
will  have  only  half  done  your  work,  and  that  is  always 
mischievous.  Pray  attend  to  my  words  on  this  subject. 
You  know  how  Socrates  loved  Truth.  Virtue  and  Truth 
are  one.  Look  for  the  truth  in  everything,  and  follow 
it,  and  you  will  then  be  hving  justly  before  God.  Let 
nothing  flout  your  sense  of  a  Supreme  Being,  and  be 
certain  that  your  understanding  wavers  whenever  you 
chance  to  doubt  that  he  leads  to  good.  We  grow  to 
good  as  surely  as  the  plant  grows  to  the  light.  The 
school  has  only  to  look  through  history  for  a  scientific 
assurance  of  it.  And  do  not  lose  the  habit  of  praying  to 
the  unseen  Divinity.  Prayer  for  worldly  goods  is  worse 
than  fruitless,  but  prayer  for  strength  of  soul  is  that 


238  LETTERS  OF  GEORGE  MEREDITH 

passion  of  the  soul  which  catches  the  gift  it  seeks. — 
Your  loving  father,  George  Meredith. 


To  Captain  Maxse. 

Box  Hill,  July  2,  1872. 

My  dear  Fred, — .  .  .  As  to  the  Century  Club  supper, 
I  thank  you.  I  return  you  the  paper.  The  Club  should 
not  sup  until  it  has  deliberated  a  century  before  the  act. 
Supping  on  any  occasion  is  doubtful  wisdom,  but  when 
you  do,  it  should  be  hke  sinning,  profuse — a  good  go  in 
at  it,  not  '  inexpensive.'  Really,  Fred,  what  are  you 
coming  to  !  I  supped  once  with  a  damsel  on  ale,  cheese 
and  onions.  And  what  are  you  going  to  commemorate  ? 
You  are  going  to  make  speeches  !  If  there  is  one  thing 
to  make  any  meal  indigestible,  it 's  spouting.  My 
neighbour's  wretched  crudities  which  I  'm  to  bolt,  good 
Lord  ! — ^The  lighting  of  the  Aquarium,  where  one  may 
see  the  fish  that  won't  come  to  the  plate,  is  simply  bar- 
barous. I  am  certain  it  was  at  your  suggestion  that 
wines  were  excluded.  I  'm  persuaded  too  that  you  're 
in  error  in  supposing  you  belong  to  this  Century,  and 
it 's  only  by  courtesy  the  fellows  of  it  don't  tell  you  so  ; 
it 's  the  next  you  belong  to,  and  you  will  find  it  out ; 
and  you  were  not  made  for  a  Club,  but  for  mankind,  so 
you  sec  you  're  wrong  all  round,  and  you  will  be  like  a 
member  of  the  Aquarium  out  of  water  there.  Don't  go. 
Come  to  me  that  day. — Your  unrefreshed     George  M. 

PS. — Does  this  '  Supper '  mean  '  Dinner '  at  a  reasonable 
hour  ? — say.  And  is  there  a  chance  of  no  Speech ifica- 
tion  ?  And  might  I  have  time  to  inspect  the  Aquarium 
quietly  by  coming  ?     And  dress  anyhow  ? 


LETTERS  OF  GEOKGE  MEREDITH        239 

To  Frederick  Greenwood.^ 

Box  Hill,  Jan.  1,  1873. 

My  dear  Greenwood, — Open  your  heart  a  minute 
to  receive  a  greeting  of  the  New  Year  from  me.  May 
you  fight  as  victoriously — bravely  you  always  will — this 
year  as  last !  May  suppressed  gout  go  limping  on  the 
other  side  of  the  river  !  May  you  be  touched  with  the 
wand  of  wisdom  to  throw  off  your  one  bhndness  and 
see  the  virtues  of  my  pen  as  with  a  flash  of  revelation  ! 

By  the  way,  I  am  having  some  fun  in  the  Graphic,  and 
might  by  and  by  turn  the  Dialogues  to  good  purpose, 
but  I  fear  the  grave  commercial  men  sitting  on  it  won't 
stand  me  long.  Glance  at  next  number,  if  it  should 
come  under  your  eye.  Do  let  us  meet  for  an  evening  this 
month  ?  Fitz James  Stephen's  articles  are  fine  out- 
hitting  and  have  judicial  good  sense.  They  are  the  prose 
of  Carlyle's  doctrines,  valuable,  profitable,  but  to  me, 
though  I  take  their  smashing  force,  just  not  conclusive 
enough  to  make  me  anxious  to  hear  the  rejoinder.  It  is 
of  great  importance  that  what  he  says  should  be  said. 
His  side  of  the  case  has  hitherto  been  woefully  dumb 
— unable  to  supply  an  athlete.  So  bold  and  able  a  writer 
will  set  a  balance.  Onlj'^  guard  against  a  certain  sombrely 
prognosticating  tone  that  he  has  : — as  in  the  sermon  on 
New  Year's  Eve.  Opposed  to  the  artificial  cheerfulness 
of  the  Journals,  it 's  like  starlight  after  pantomime  fires. 
But  it  gives  the  PaU  Mall  by  degrees  a  Mr.  Toobad 
twang. 

Some  one  assured  me  that  George  Smith  had  yielded 

^  Author  and  journalist ;  originator  and  publisher  of  the  Pall  Mall 
Oazette.  When  Yates  Thompson  purchased  this  and  turned  it  into  a 
Liberal  organ,  Greenwood  and  other  members  of  the  staff  formed  the 
St.  James's  Oazette.  It  was  Frederick  Greenwood  who  first  suggested 
to  Disraeli  that  purchase  of  the  Suez  Canal  shares  which  made  England 
master 'of  that  Gate  to  the  East.  Ho  subsequently  edited  the  Anti- 
jacobin. 


240        LETTERS  OF  GEORGE  MEREDITH 

his  part  in  the  P.  M.  to   Spottiswoode  :    not    true,    I 
hope  ? 

I  have  looked  at  Morris's  poem  *  Enough  for  love,' — 
'  Love  is  enough,'  I  mean.  Have  you  ?  I  looked  away. 
The  look  was  enough.  Our  public  seems  to  possess  the 
fearful  art  of  insensibly  castrating  its  favourites.  The 
songs  are  of  the  species  of  Fitzball's  Gossamer  Tree  : 
charming  in  melody,  but  there  is  no  such  thing  as  a 
gossamer  tree.  I  hope  when  Swinburne  publishes  his 
'  Tristram  '  you  will  review  him.  Take  him  at  his  best 
he  is  by  far  the  best — finest  poet ;  truest  artist — of  the 
young  lot — when  he  refrains  from  pointing  a  hand  at 
the  genitals.  And  I  trust  he  has  done  so  this  time.  I 
never  see  him,  and  have  to  imagine  that  he  has  taken 
offence — without  a  formal  editorial  letter  to  tell  me  of 
it,  as  in  a  famous  case  known  to  us.  All  states  of  life 
have  their  privileges,  and  mine  is  to  be  behind  the  scenes 
of  many  illustrious  and  ringing  names,  and  to  laugh. 
How  truly  wise  is  so  and  so  !  I  hear,  and  I  bow.  The 
aim  of  the  pretenders  must  be  but  to  have  this  homage 
of  the  public,  and  who  would  rob  them  of  it  because  he 
happens  to  be  behind  them  on  the  stage  and  peruses  a 
dead  blank  instead  of  the  pretty  picture  confronting  the 
pensive  ?  I  would  run  on,  but  you  are  a  busy  man.  If 
we  can't  meet,  I  will  invite  myself  to  you  for  the  evening. 
I  hope  your  daughter  still  improves. — From  your  loving 

George  Meredith. 

To  Frederick  Greenwood. 

Box  Hill,  Dorking,  March  12,  1874. 
My  dear  Greenwood, — I  should  like  to  review 
*  Spain  and  the  Spaniards  '  of  Azamar  Batuk  ;  and  also 
'  Yu-Pe-Ya's  Lute  '  by  Mrs.  Webster,  if  I  see  stuff  in  it. 
Will  you  leave  them  out  for  me  ?  I  want  work.  My 
poor  '  Bcauchamp  '  is  not  thought  good  for  the  market 


LETTERS  OF  GEORGE  MEREDITH         241 

by  George  Smith,  who  is  (as  he  always  is)  very  kind 
about  it. — Your  faithful  George  Meredith. 


To  John  Morley. 

Box  Hill,  Dorking,  May  22,  1874. 

My  dear  Morley, — I  thank  you  very  much  for  step- 
ping over  the  obstruction  for  our  mutual  convenience 
in  the  matter  of  *  Beauchamp.'  Greenwood  and  Maxse 
told  me  that  the  work  pleased  you.  I  need  scarcely 
assure  you  that  I  look  upon  your  appreciation  of  my 
labour  as  a  good  reward  of  it.  I  write  for  you  and  men 
like  you.  Consequently  when  the  greater  paymaster 
failed  me,  I  hoped  the  work  might  be  accepted  where 
it  would  be  more  suitably  accommodated,  feeling  quite 
certain  that  you  would  allow  nothing  to  stand  in  the 
way  of  your  estimation  of  it  on  its  merits.  Your  reluct- 
ance to  undertake  the  burden  of  so  lengthy  a  production, 
I  cannot  but  think  reasonable,  and  I  gladly  meet  your 
kind  proposal  that  I  should  cut  it  short  as  much  as  I 
can,  without  endangering  the  arteries.  I  will  get  the 
MS.  from  George  Smith  immediately,  and  do  my  utmost 
upon  it.  It  strikes  me  that  the  parts  to  lop  will  be  the 
letters,  a  portion  of  the  Visit  to  Normandy,  the  heavier 
of  the  electioneering  passages,  introductory  paragraphs 
to  chapters,  and  dialogues  passim  that  may  be  considered 
not  vital  to  the  central  idea.  That,  which  may  be  stated 
to  be  the  personal  abnegation  coming,  in  spite  of  errors 
here  and  there  (and  as  it  were  in  spite  of  the  man  himself), 
of  a  noble  devotion  to  politics  from  the  roots  up,  I  think 
I  can  retain  uninjured — possibly  improved  by  the  ex- 
clusion of  a  host  of  my  own  reflections.  At  any  rate  they 
can  be  reprinted  subsequently.  Chapman  will  buy  the 
book  for  the  3  vol.  issue.  It  rests  with  me  that  this 
should  be  brought  about.     I  will  talce  the  liberty  to  let 

VOL.  L — Q 


242         LETTERS  OF  GEORGE  MEREDITH 

you  know  to  what  amount,  and  when,  the  task  of  excision 
has  been  performed. 

My  httle  ones,  I  am  glad  to  say,  are  well,  and  so  is 
my  wife,  whom  I  join  in  sending  her  compHments  and 
regards  to  Airs.  Morley. 

Let  me  add  that  I  await  the  continuation  of  the 
essay  on  Compromise  with  some  impatience. — I  am  your 
obhged  and  faithful  George  Meredith. 


To  Moncure  D.  Conway. 

Box  Hill,  Doeking,  June  18,  1874. 

Dear  Sir, — I  have  been  away  from  home,  and  I  regret 
very  much  that  your  letter  of  the  29th  May  should  have 
remained  unanswered  up  to  this  date. 

I  am  engaged  in  cutting  do\Ma  my  novel  for  the  '  Fort- 
nightly Review.'  The  task  is  hard,  for  I  have  at  least 
to  excise  a  third  of  my  work,  which  appears  to  be  a  fuU 
three-vols.  measure.  Supposing  that  I  accomplish  it  to 
the  satisfaction  of  the  Editor,  the  first  chapters  will  be 
published  in  the  Septr.  number,  as  far  as  I  can  calculate. 
Would  it  be  of  use  to  you  to  have  early  serial  sheets  ? 

I  feel  bound  to  warn  you  of  the  nature  of  my  work.  It 
is  not  likely  to  please  the  greater  number  of  readers. 
Mr.  George  Smith  (of  Smith,  Elder  &  Co.)  could  not  take  it 
for  the  '  ComhiU  Magazine.'  It  is  philosophical-political, 
with  no  powerful  stream  of  adventure  :  an  attempt  to 
show  the  forces  roimd  a  young  man  of  the  present  day, 
in  England,  who  would  move  them,  and  finds  them  un- 
utterably solid,  though  it  is  seen  in  the  end  that  he  does 
not  altogether  fail,  has  not  lived  quite  in  vain.  Of 
course,  this  is  done  in  the  concrete.  A  certain  drama 
of  self-conquest  is  gone  through,  for  the  hero  is  not 
perfect.     He  is  bom  of  the  upper  class,  and  is  scarcely 


LETTERS  OF  GEORGE  MEREDITH         243 

believed  in  by  any  class,  except  when  he  vexes  his  own, 
and  it  is  then  to  be  hated.  At  the  same  time  the  mild 
spirit  of  a  prosperous  middle  class,  that  is  not  extremely 
alarmed,  is  shown  to  be  above  persecuting  ;  so  that  the 
unfortunate  young  man  is  in  danger  of  being  thought 
dull  save  by  those  who  can  enter  his  idea  of  the  advance- 
ment of  Humanity  and  hia  passion  for  it.  In  this  he  is 
a  type.  And  I  think  his  History  a  picture  of  the  time 
— ^taking  its  mental  action,  and  material  ease  and  in- 
difference, to  be  a  necessary  element  of  the  picture. 

But  I  am  afraid  all  this  will  not  sound  hopeful  to  you  in 
the  interests  of  an  American  publisher,  if  it  should  be  on 
behalf  of  one  that  you  do  me  the  honour  to  address  me. 

I  find  myself  writing  to  you  on  a  matter  of  business. 
I  am  indebted  to  your  lectures  for  support,  and  have 
often  wished  to  thank  you  for  them.  I  beg  you  to 
pardon  the  liberty  I  take  in  doing  so. — I  am,  dear  sir, 
yours  most  faithfully,  George  Meredith. 

To  John  Morley. 

Box  Hill,  Dorkinq,  July  14,  1874. 

My  dear  Morley, — Since  you  are  inchned  generously 
to  trust  to  me  to  cut  the  Novel  short,  I  promise  you  that 
it  shall  be  done  to  your  satisfaction,  as  to  quantity. 
The  '  mutilation  '  does  me  no  hurt ;  but  hitherto  I  have 
merely  looked  at  it  to  see  that  it  could  be  done  ; — but 
with  shudders  to  think  how  much  more  there  was  to  do  ! 
The  central  portion,  I  fear,  must  be  cut  to  pieces,  con- 
densed, re-written. — I  would  have  begim  upon  the  MS. 
immediately  ;  but  Chapman  had  given  me  to  suppose 
that  you  were  very  anxious  for  space  for  critical  and 
attractive  articles. — I  fancied  there  was  no  hurry. — To- 
day I  post  3  chapters,  which  I  fancy  will  come  within 
the  pages  you  number  for  me.     The  excisions  are  not 


244        LETTERS  OF  GEORGE  MEREDITH 

so  numerous  here  as  they  will  be  subsequently  to  the 
Venetian  scenes.  These  also  I  shall  be  able  to  cut  down 
a  httle.  Remember  that  I  despatch  the  sheets  to  Virtue 
because  it  is  your  wish  :  I  am  not  anxious  to  begin. — 
I  will  try  my  hand  at  a  paragraph  or  two  of  Prologue. 
I  see  that  it  is  wanted.  It  is  difficult.  If  I  had  but 
temporary  command  of  your  style  I  should  not  fear. 

The  latest  portion  '  On  Compromise  '  is  very  good 
indeed. — Are  the  instances  a  trifle  over-famihar  for  the 
dignity  of  the  Essay  ?  They  at  least  give  your  meaning 
clearly  and  bring  them  home — are  hkely  to  do  downright 
service.  For  that  purpose  it  will  not  do  to  stand  much 
aloof — among  the  sons  of  Hengist.  I  have  just  returned 
from  Uckfield,  where  his  descendants  are  in  the  major- 
ity, though  they  would  assume  Horsa  to  be  his  wife. — 
Morison's  '  Impossible  French  Republic  '  strikes  one  as 
overwhelmingly  true — as  it  is  powerful. 


To  John  Morley. 

Box  Hill,  July  23,  1874. 

My  dear  Morley, — I  find  I  can  say  better  what  should 
be  said  of  Beauchamp  in  a  paragraph  at  the  head  of  the 
4th  chapter — I  am  very  shy  of  prefaces,  and  by  intro- 
ducing my  one  or  two  remarks  incidentally  I  hope  to 
escape  from  a  tone  that  seems  to  avoid  the  apology  only 
by  some  loftiness — or  the  reverse.  I  am  afraid  it  would 
not  be  I  who  could  put  the  intermediate  touch.  Con- 
ception rarely  fails  me,  though  ability  does,  and  I  can 
barely  conceive  of  its  being  done  in  the  proper  tone. — 
I  own  that  you  might  do  it  for  one  of  your  own  works  : 
but  for  a  piece  of  fiction  having  a  serious  aim,  and  before 
a  pubhc  that  scorns  the  serious  in  fiction,  and  whose  wits 
are  chiefly  trained  to  detect  pretension,  it  is  more  than 
commonly  difficult. 


LETTERS  or  GEORGE  MEREDITH        245 

I  will  take  care  that  Virtue  prints  the  next  chapter  early, 
so  that,  if  you  will  be  so  good  as  to  offer  it,  I  may  have 
your  counsel  anent  the  paragraph. 

Did  I  speak  to  you  of  Morison's  article  ?  It  abounded 
in  cleverness  :  it  threw  me  over  and  silenced  me  : — but 
is  it  just  to  be  writing  so  decisively  imhopefuUy  ?  Many 
of  his  illustrations  are  excellent.  It  is  at  any  rate 
admirable  journahsm. — I  am,  yours  very  faithfully, 

George  Meredith. 

To  Captain  Maxse. 

Box  Hill,  August  5,  1874. 

My  dear  Fred, — Probably  you  are  in  strong  sunshine. 
Here  we  have  a  chilly  day,  a  shrouded  sky,  half  a  sus- 
picion of  light  now  and  then,  a  bit  of  a  breeze  that  has 
puffed  spasmodic  life  into  the  yachts  at  Cowes,  and  shakes 
the  rain  from  our  junipers.  The  fine  weather  has  become 
a  Christian  penitent,  and  makes  everybody  unhappy 
around  her. — How  I  long  to  be  with  you  !  I  am  afraid 
that  the  doing  of  justice  to  Beauchamp  and  other  work 
I  have  will  nail  me  dovvn  (a  cofifinj'^  phrase  !),  or  rather,  I 
am  fearing  it,  for  I  still  look  forward  with  a  bit  of  hope. 

On  Sunday  White  arrived,  in  attendance  upon  Mr. 
Jacob  Homburg,!  of  whom  we  are  aU  very  fond.  He  is  a 
nice  little  feUow  with  an  addiction  to  hunting  rabbits, 
that  I  must  cure  him  of,  and  a  passion  for  the  kitchen, 
due  to  the  soft  influences  of  5^our  cook,  probably  incurable. 
Already  he  has  taken  to  his  new  home,  follows  me  well  and 
seems  to  like  his  quarters.  The  exception  to  his  good 
conduct  is,  that  he  refuses  biscuit  and  thinks  of  standing 
out  for  meat  pure  and  simple. 

You  have  seen  the  papers  and  meditated  upon  the 
Beecher-Tilton  scandal.  Guilty  or  not,  there  is  a  sickly 
snuffiness  about  the  religious  fry  that  makes  the  tale  of 

^  A  dachshound,  the  gift  of  Captain  Maxse. 


246        LETTERS  OF  GEORGE  MEREDITH 

their  fornications  and  adulteries  absolutely  repulsive  to 
read  of,  and  but  for  the  feeding  of  the  reptile  sarcasm 
in  our  bosoms,  it  would  disgust  one  more  than  a  chronicle 
of  the  amours  of  costermongers. 

If  Austria  permits  to  you  the  *  Fortnightly,'  you  will 
have  seen  that  Beauchamp  has  made  a  start.  It  is  a 
singularly  fine  number. 

Do  you  laiow  I  have  a  great  liking  for  being  in  Austria, 
and  if  I  come  I  would  propose  a  route  something  like 
this  :  to  be  at  Nuremberg  about  the  22nd  (I  cannot  be 
off  before  the  20th)  :  to  proceed  to  Ratisbon,  and  by 
steamer  to  Linz  and  Passau  :  thence  quickly  to  the  Salz- 
kammergut,  and  by  any  route  you  like  to  Tyrol  and 
Lienz,  for  a  few  days  among  the  dolomites'  valleys  :  then 
by  rail  to  Verona  and  by  the  North  Italian  lakes  home- 
ward anyhow. — Would  such  a  scheme  please  you,  with 
some  small  amount  of  knapsack  walking  ?  Tell  me. 
For  walking  is  the  thing  I  must  have,  or  it  will  be  waste 
of  time  and  money  for  me.  Up  at  four  a.m.,  a  walk  to 
breakfast,  a  walk  to  dinner,  a  stroll,  and  then  early  to 
the  couch. — Latterly  I  have  been  rising  here  at  half -past 
five,  and  have  enjoyed  the  tonic  morning  air  immensely, 
yet  more  the  fresh  loveliness  of  the  downs  and  fields,  the 
velvet  shadows,  sharp  and  thin,  and  the  exquisite  sky. 
This  morning  there  was  little  of  that,  however.  The 
weather  seems  to  be  making  up  for  the  jolly  squalls  and 
the  gale  wo  had  crossing  to  Cherbourg  once.  Changes 
liave  come  since  then  !  Where  's  the  Susan  ?  Where  's 
the  Grebe  ? — By  the  way,  Betty  Vulliamy  would  like  to 
know  whether  you  are  a  Good  Templar,  and  if  not  whether 
you  are  willing  to  become  one.  I  don't  know  the  nature 
of  the  rites  of  initiation. 

So  spins  the  world  away. — I  would  not  have  you  write, 
because  it 's  better  for  your  health's  sake  that  you  should 
not ;   but  you  may  jot  down  what  you  think  of  my  plan 


LETTERS  OF  GEORGE  MEREDITH         247 

of  a  tour,  or  what  your  proposition  is  :  and  what,  sup- 
posing we  do  not  meet  upon  the  date  you  name,  your 
aim  is  likely  to  be.  Whither  you  will  go,  and  for  how 
long,  and  which  way  homeward. — I  have  not  abandoned 
the  prospect  of  meeting  you  somewhere  :  but  at  this 
instant  (and  it  is  the  reason  why  I  did  not  write  to  you 
by  return  of  post)  I  do  not  see  my  way  out  of  the  en- 
circhng  whirr  of  work. — Marie  and  I  rejoice  that  you 
should  be  feehng  better  and  condescending  to  repose — 
a  good  sign  of  itself. 

Adieu,  my  dear  Fred.  Write  soon  and  I  will  reply. 
Tell  me  your  scheme.  I  will  come  if  I  can,  and  meet  you, 
if  it  doesn't  preclude  walking  somewhat.  Nuremberg 
I  have  never  seen  and  much  want  to.  By  what  date  is 
it  imperative  for  you  to  be  in  England  ? — Your  loving 

George  Meredith. 

To  John  Morley. 

Box  Hill,  August  10,  1874. 
My  dear  Morley, — Pardon  me  if  I  have  been  causing 
anxiety  to  the  Editorial  bosom.  Each  day  that  I  keep 
back  my  MS.  I  feel  capable  of  cutting  out  more  and  more  ; 
and  for  the  present  number  the  more  the  better,  for  it 
will  be  as  well  to  get  over  the  Venetian  scenes  in  this 
number  as  nearly  as  possible — according  to  the  amount 
of  space  you  can  give  me.  The  chapters  are  short. — 
You  will  see  that  the  2nd  para,  of  Chapter  4  is  composed 
of  the  prefatory  obser^^ations.  I  am  quite  ready  to  defer 
to  your  judgment  if  you  object  to  them,  or  to  the  way  in 
which  they  are  done. — To-morrow  morning  I  send  several 
chapters  on  to  Virtue  from  Chapman's,  and  very  shortly 
you  shall  have  a  vol.  in  advance. — I  need  hardly  say 
how  glad  I  am  that  you  approve  of  it  so  far.  Maxse 
writes  from  Carlsbad  that  he  thinks  the  beginning  '  ex- 
cellent,' but  the  public  and  press  may  think  differently. 


248        LETTERS  OF  GEORGE  MEREDITH 

For  your  sake  as  well  as  mine  I  hope  not.  M.  confesses 
to  feeling  very  much  improved  in  tone.  He  wishes  me 
to  meet  him  at  the  Bel  Alp  on  the  20th.  I  do  not  see  that 
it  is  possible.  I  have  the  restless  feeling  for  the  moun- 
tains as  actively  as  ever,  but  neither  time  nor  purse. — 
Morison  should  be  coming  to  me  for  a  day  or  two,  and  if 
he  does  not  I  shall  fear  that  things  are  going  ill  at  Pit- 
field.  The  conclusion  of  '  Compromise  '  gives  me  a  bold, 
healthful,  high-reaching  Essay,  practically  a  guide  to 
turn  to  when  the  heart  is  weaker  than  the  eye  is  blind. 
If,  either  owing  to  the  casuistry  pertaining  to  the  subject, 
or  to  the  desire  for  directly  applying  your  meaning,  you 
have  missed  the  philosophical  altitudes  you  love  better 
(I  understand  Morison  to  hint  at  this),  you  have  at  least 
said  what  no  one  else  dares  or  can  say.  I  shall  re-read 
it : — Let  me  add  that  now  and  then  I  have  thought  you 
less  careful  in  your  style  than  commonly.  It  has  the 
good  swing,  but  there  are  dissonances.  That  is  Uttle, 
but  there  are  at  the  same  time  phrases  running  with  sen- 
tences that  are  cast  in  a  tone  too  purely  argumentative 
for  that  proper  to  the  essay  :  showing  as  it  were  the 
want  of  absolute  compression  of  your  own  thought  in 
awaiting  the  objections  of  an  opponent,  double -stating 
it. — I  do  not  quarrel  with  what  I  like  well,  but  what  I 
like  I  wish  to  see  perfect,  and  I  am  sure  you  will  over- 
look a  critical  habit  in  me. — Your  most  faithful 

George  Meredith. 


To  Captain  Maxse. 

Box  Hill,  August  10,  1874. 

My  dear  Fred, — Hail,  rain,  thunder,  lightning  : — 
have  you  anything  like  this  at  Carlsbad  ?  This  is  our 
daily  entertainment,  and  I  don't  dislike  it,  for  it  gives 
fine  scenery. — I  am  glad  you  like  the  opening  of  *  Beau- 


LETTERS  OF  GEORGE  MEREDITH         249 

champ.'  I  am  at  work  cutting  down,  which  will  necessi- 
tate some  amount  of  fresh  writing.  Chapman  urges  me 
for  copy,  so  that  he  may  have  an  advance  lot  to  forward 
to  America  for  pay,  otherwise  he  won't  get  the  same,  so 
I  am  bound  to  go  on  with  my  work,  and  that  fact,  besides 
considerations  of  the  purse,  seems  to  forewarn  me  I 
am  doomed  to  remain  in  harness.  I  fear  so.  I  cannot 
say  at  present,  but  the  outlook  is  bad.  I  may  be  able 
in  Sept.  to  accomplish  a  cheap  trip  of  a  fortnight  to  my 
wife's  sister  in  Dauphiny,  for  a  breath  of  mountain  air. 
Switzerland  gets  dim  as  Leith  Hill  behind  the  raincloud. 
— It  is  an  immense  relief  and  joy  to  me  to  think  of  the 
chance  of  your  recovery.  Perhaps  the  waters  do  some- 
thing, but  the  seclusion  from  work  and  nervous  worry 
is  the  main  secret,  I  fancy.  Next  year,  if  things  are 
favourable  with  me,  I  might  try  Carlsbad  myself.  Obtain 
the  best  general  information  as  to  the  waters,  and  let 
me  know  how  they  operate. — By  the  way,  have  you  read 
Swinburne's  *  Bothwell '  ?  I  am  afraid  it  's  going  to  be 
allowed  to  sink  because  of  its  size  ;  and  no  doubt  there 
is  too  much  of  it,  but  you  at  least  are  one  of  those  who 
should  read  and  support  it. — Morley  finishes  '  Com- 
promise,' very  good  and  bold  work  that  cannot  but  be 
beneficial.  I  presume  that  Morison  on  the  '  Prospects  of 
the  Republic  in  France  '  did  not  please  you.  The  Posi- 
tivists,  he  tells  me,  are  howling  stiU.  It  was  well  written. 
I  am  afraid  it  contains  more  truth  than  we  care  to  admit, 
though  none  can  deny  to  Gambetta  very  honourable 
leadership  of  late.  I  have  seen  one  '  Lanterne.'  Hum. 
And  read  Rochefort's  Fortnightly  Article.  Have  you  ? 
Poor  stuff. — We  want  from  him  an  orderly  narrative  done 
in  a  certain  grave  pitch  of  tone,  not  carping  criticisms  of 
other  men's  work. 

I  hope  to  be  hearing  from  you  to-morrow,  when  I  may 
have  something  to  reply  to,  so  I  will  hold  this  from  the 


250        LETTERS  OF  GEORGE  MEREDITH 

post  for  24  hours.     Jacob  sits  at  my  feet,  and  is  my 
constant  companion — a  dear  little  fellow. 

Aug.  11. — Your  letter  just  come  :  You  have  not  yet 
received  mine  dated  the  4th,  and  to  which  I  calculated 
getting  yours  of  this  morning  for  an  answer. — Adieu. 
I  will  write  again. — Your  loving  Geoege  M. 


To  Captain  Maxse. 

Box  Hnx,  August  15,  1874. 

My  dear  Fred, — I  write  so  that  you  may  not  be  dis- 
appointed of  a  letter  at  Meyringen,  and  good  morning  to 
you  on  your  way  to  the  Bel  Alp  !  I  am  finishing  a  Poem, 
'  The  Nuptials  of  Attila ' — about  forty  pages :  Jacob 
at  my  foot,  an  accustomed  pigeon  on  the  window-sill, 
bees  below  humming  over  some  droppings  of  honeycomb 
just  taken  from  them.  This  is  pastoral  and  should  con- 
tent me,  yet  I  wish  I  were  with  you,  in  sight  of  the  Alps. 
Ziirich  I  don't  much  care  for,  yet  to  be  at  Ziirich  would 
enrapture  me, — Why  should  you  return  1 — Now  I  look 
at  my  pigeon  fronting  me,  I  remark  that  he  is  amazingly 
like  a  parson.  He  is  on  one  leg,  asleep,  his  beak  in  breast, 
all  his  feathers  oddly  ruffled  to  swell  his  size,  and  an  eye 
turned  on  me  like  the  eye  of  Falstaff  heeling  over  with 
excess  of  Sherris.  Sa3^  a  Bishop. — When  I  was  staying 
with  my  wife's  sister  last  June  we  dined  one  evening 
with  the  rector  of  the  place.  He  said  to  me  :  '  Do  you 
think  it  true  that  there  is  a  portrait  of  Jesus  Christ 
extant  ?  ' — '  Of  Nazareth  ?  '  said  I.  He  blinked  faintly 
like  my  sleepy  pigeon.  '  Certainly  of  Nazareth.' — '  Oh  ! 
no,  then,'  said  I.  *  But  it  is  affirmed  that  there  is  an 
authentic  portrait  of  the  Virgin  his  Mother.'  '  Could  one 
trust  it  ?  '  he  asked  me  with  a  supplication  in  the  tone. 
*  Decidedly  not,'  said  I.     He  was  (to  make  use  of  one  of 


LETTERS  OF  GEORGE  MEREDITH        251 

their  distinctions)  High  Church.  One  may  be  high  and 
not  see  far.  And  now  good-night,  Fred.  Write  from 
Bel  Alp. — Where  you  also  will  be  high  and  not  see  so  far 
as  me,  I  dare  say. — Your  envious  George  M. 


To  Captain  Maxse. 

Box  Hill,  Dorking,  Sept.  3,  1874. 

My  dear  Fred, — I  am  reminded  by  Jacob  von  Hom- 
burg  that  you  pass  through  Geneva  on  the  5th,  and  there 
is  just  time  for  me  to  despatch  you  a  greeting.  I  know 
the  disappointment  of  not  getting  a  letter  when  one  calls 
at  a  foreign  post  office. — Wind  S.E.  with  rain.  For  a 
week  we  have  had  fine  S.W.  skies  :  yesterday  was  quite 
v/onderful  with  scaling  clouds.  I  went  up  the  hill  with 
Will  and  his  mother  and  sister  (Jacob  of  course)  and  we 
flew  a  kite  and  dreamed.  It  was  on  the  whole  as  good 
as  Switzerland  while  it  lasted,  but  it  was  not  the  shaking 
up  of  Alpine  walks  and  the  freshening  of  mountain  air. 
This  is  what  I  want  and  find  I  certainly  can't  get  before 
next  year.  The  more  I  look  at  Beauchamp  the  more 
I  see  that  the  work  must  be  almost  redone — at  least  to 
suit  my  taste. — Tyndall's  Belfast  address  you  have  seen, 
no  doubt.  It  has  roused  the  Clergy,  Fred.  They  warned 
away  from  science  ?  They  excluded  from  the  chief  works 
of  God  and  told  to  confine  themselves  to  the  field  of  the 
emotions  !  They  affirm  that  Tyndall  is  an  atheist,  and 
would  dare  to  say  he  is  already  damned  if  the  age  were 
in  a  mood  to  hear  that  language.  The  man  or  the  country 
t])at  fights  priestcraft  and  priests  is  to  my  mind  striking 
deeper  for  freedom  than  can  be  struck  anywhere  at 
present.  I  foresee  a  perilous  struggle  with  them.  So 
far  I  am  heartily  with  Bismarck. — I  want  you  to  note 
for  mo  what  sort  of  weather  you  have  had  on  the  days 
when  I  recorded  our  weather  here.     I  am  noting  as  far 


252        LETTERS  OF  GEORGE  MEREDITH 

as  I  can  the  general  prevalence  of  the  S.  Westers  at  this 
period.  Scptr.  is  commonly  a  fine  Swiss  month  ;  whether 
it  shares  our  luck  at  aU  is  what  I  want  to  learn.  France, 
I  find,  has  usually  our  weather  in  Spring,  and  not  in 
Autumn. — I  shall  see  you  soon.  The  folly  of  your  coming 
back  affects  me  strangely.  Necessity  would  have  to  pull 
hard  to  fetch  me  to  these  shores,  had  I  choice  of  Switzer- 
land or  Italy.  Write  when  you  return — and  come  here. 
— Your  loving  George  Meredith. 


To  John  Morley. 

Box  Hill,  Dorking,  Nov.  19,  1874. 

My  dear  Morley, — I  gave  you  your '  mouth  of  freedom 
from  editorial  cares,'  thinking  it  might  be  wanted  for  a 
holiday  on  tough  desk- work,  then  fearing  that  a  personal 
affliction,  to  which  I  could  not  minister,  urged  you  to 
keep  aloof.  I  am  very  glad  to  have  your  letter.  When 
Maxse  saw  you  before  you  started  he  thought  you  were 
looking  ruddily  weU — chubbily  :  so  writing  at  least 
agrees  with  you.  Yours  is  the  better  way.  Public  life, 
if  only  one  can  keep  up  to  the  mark  of  it,  and  know  when 
to  abandon  it,  is  the  wholesomest.  You  get  most  wis- 
dom out  of  it :  and  it  is  the  only  path  to  follow  to  know 
oneself.  Hermit  philosophers  are  soon  seen  following 
the  fancy  as  much  as  infants,  but  it  is  not  so  pretty  a 
fancy. — I  assume  that  objections  are  not  yet  raised 
against  Beauchamp,  because  I  have  not  yet  had  a  sneer 
from  Chapman.  As  far  as  I  have  seen,  the  Weekly 
Commentators  are  disposed  to  leave  it  alone,  and  I 
would  rather  have  them  do  so. — Absolute  re-writing  I 
find  to  be  my  lamentable  task  for  the  whole  of  it ! 

The  Essay  on  Compromise  was  put  in  my  hands  the 
other  day  in  Piccadilly.  I  hold  it  a  brave  good  book  to 
take  counsel  with.     The  work  on  '  Supernatural  Religion ' 


LETTERS  OF  GEORGE  MEREDITH        253 

comes  in  the  way  of  my  re-reading  it  immediately — thanks 
to  your  article,  and  another  (yours,  it  struck  me)  in  the 
Pall  Mall — I  feel  to  the  writer  as  we  used  to  towards  our 
big  boy  champion  against  the  bullies  at  school  :  that  is, 
I  admire,  beheve  in  him,  feel  that  it  is  my  fight,  but  can 
aid  only  very  little — by  gesticulation  chiefly.  He  is  a 
splendid  fellow.  Hitherto  we  have  pined  for  one  who 
should  unite  profound  scholarship  and  cimning  of  fence. 
I  like  his  unhasting  equability  of  tone.  I  am  near  the 
end  of  the  1st  volume,  and  long  to  get  to  the  summing 
up. — You  did  well  by  '  Both  well '  in  '  Macmillan.'  I 
spoke  of  the  article  to  the  more  than  Scotchman,  his 
partner  ^ — the  coarser  bran  or  pure  porridge  Scotchman. 
'  Hegh,  don't  ye  know  the  writer  of  it  ?  '  said  he,  and 
scotched  your  name. — The  other  night  I  saw  Irving  in 
Hamlet,  a  great  pleasure  that  I  should  like  to  hear  of 
your  having.  He  hstened  to  my  criticism  next  day, 
and  no  doubt  I  thought  the  better  of  his  Hamlet  after- 
wards, but  it  is  good  acting.  .  .  . — Your  ever  faithful 

George  Meredith. 

I  remember — I  had  certain  things  to  say  of  Mil  upon 
*  Nature,'  but  must  defer  it.  I  rejoice  that  you  speak 
with  regret  of  the  weak  spot  elsewhere. 

To  Frederick  Chxenwood. 

Box  Hill,  Dorbsng,  Last  Day  of  '74. 
My  dear  Greenwood, — Though  you  are  rapidly 
becoming  insubstantial  to  me  as  well  as  elusive,  like  the 
very  spark  in  the  burnt  sheet  of  my  rejected  manuscript, 
I  believe  in  you  still  and  will  wish  New  Year's  happiness 
to  an  Editor  so  deep  in  his  retirement  as  to  be  but  the 
animating  spirit  of  a  newspaper.     Do  you  ever  think  of 

^  George  Lillie  Craik. 


254        LETTERS  OF  GEORGE  MEREDITH 

mo  ?  Ever  imagine  how  much  an  hour  of  you  calls  me 
up  ?  Do  you  read  a  bit  of  Beauchamp  ?  I  have  a  portion 
of  it  under  me  to  compress  and  rekindle,  and  words  can't 
say  what  a  dole  of  criticism  from  you  (with  an  interjection 
or  two  on  the  right  side)  would  do  to  animate  the  finish. 
Do  you  lunch  at  the  Garrick  ?  Sometimes  I  see  you 
glowing  tlirough  the  bars  of  the  Pall  Mall,  roguish  as 
Holbein's  Harry  8tli  Jester  at  Hampton  Court,  or  awful 
as  Eblis  with  the  fire  at  his  heart.  But  I  see  you  only 
in  brilliant  dots,  like  a  score  of  devil's  music  played  to  a 
dyspeptic  at  night,  to  haunt  him  for  the  remainder  of 
his  term,  integral  no  more. 

Let  nonsense  be  no  more.  Men  grow  grave.  Editors 
most  of  all.  I  am  troubled  about  various  outlooks  for 
the  country,  and  do  hope  you  will  be  at  work  on  the 
subject  of  a  conscription — your  own  subject  years  back. 
Our  stiff-necked  people  must  pass  under  this  yoke. 

Some  day  I  shall  call  for  a  talk  of  five  minutes.  Mean- 
time I  salute  you  with  all  my  heart. 


To  Captain  Maxse. 

Box  Hill,  Jan,  13,  1875. 

My  dearest  Fred, — Your  letter  sti-uck  hke  a  shaft  of 
sunhght  into  my  bath  yesterday  morning,  and  the  con- 
tents appear  to  me  very  good.  Movement  and  bracing 
air — these  are  the  specifics.  I  have  such  a  vision  of 
your  pinewoods  that  they  will  henceforth  be  one  of  my 
points  of  attraction.  How  delightful  to  roam  through 
them  with  your  boys  ! — I  assume  that  the  little  chaps 
picked  up  at  once  on  landing. 

Our  frost  broke  up  the  night  you  started,  and  a  rising 
wind  made  me  think  of  you. 

I  doubt  if  there  will  be  any  fresh  matter  this  month  ; 
Morley  gave  only  two  chapters  last  month.     No  doubt 


LETTERS  OF  GEORGE  MEREDITH        255 

you  will  be  back  with  the  boys  for  their  schooling  before 
the  further  proofs  require  attention  ;  but  I  shall  hear 
from  you  and  the  proofs  shall  fly  to  you  wherever  you 
are. — Did  you  see  in  the  '  Times  '  a  letter  of  a  delicious 
Bishop  reproving  Auberon  Herbert  upon  the  subject  of 
Prayer  :  Assuring  us,  in  large  type,  that  God  answers 
it,  upon  the  example  of  the  human  physician  to  whom 
we  cry  for  aid,  and  are  answered.  The  proof  of  a  spiritual 
response  from  the  instance  of  the  material  one  is  finely 
episcopal.  The  '  Times '  printed  no  reply  to  my  Lord 
Bishop. — Your  loving  George  Meredith. 


To  Frederick  Jones. 

Box  Hill,  Jan.  23,  1875. 

My  dear  Jones, — It 's  I  who  am  the  delinquent : 
Marie  will  not  touch  the  pen  to  tell  it.  The  truth  is,  I 
am  so  tied  down  to  work  at  this  period  that  I  cannot  hope 
to  spare  two  days  for  pleasure  before  the  end  of  February. 
Blame,  but  pity  me,  and  that  will  bring  you  round  to  the 
right  feeling.  Besides,  our  Babsie  is  only  just  flinging 
off  a  catarrh,  and  I  feel  tlireatened  with  it,  yet  must  drive 
my  quiU. 

Consider,  however,  you,  that  the  Birthdays  occur  on 
the  10th  and  12th  of  next  month.  Will  you  come  on 
the  10th  to  celebrate  Marie's  ?  Once  you  did.  Be  that 
admirable  man  and  wife  again !  You  will  make  us 
happy.  And  then  can  be  settled  the  time  of  our  visit 
to  you.  I  have  long  been  wishing  to  see  you  and  make 
you  know  my  sympathy  for  you  in  the  blows  that  have 
struck  you  heavily  through  the  year.  They  have  been 
a  grief  to  us,  beheve  me. 

I  do  hope  you  will  come  on  the  10th.  Write  to  me 
pardoning  me  and  heaping  anthracite  on  my  head  (a 
costly  matter  in  these  days)  by  the  promise  that  in  spite 


256        LETTERS  OF  GEORGE  MEREDITH 

of  my  breaches  of  faith  you  can  be  generous.  Willie 
will  be  so  happy  to  see  Ethel,  He  shall  have  a  holiday 
for  that  day.  Give  my  warmest  regards  to  Mrs.  Jones 
— dashed  by  no  cynicism  of  your  own  :  and  to  Miss  Jones  : 
and  my  love  to  Bright-hair. — Your  faithfullest 

Geokge  Meredith. 

To  John  Morley. 

Box  Hill,  April  12,  1875. 

My  dear  Morley, — ^Your  letter  written  at  Trier  was 
a  delightful  surprise  to  me.  On  the  Sunday  following 
we  imagined  you  at  Rheims,  gave  you  to  the  Sainted 
Joan  for  an  hour,  compared  the  wheels  of  your  mind  with 
the  ceremonials  of  the  Cathedral,  and  finally  deposited 
you  in  Paris,  where  for  your  good  health  I  trust  you  may 
even  still  be.  I  am  anxious  to  see  you  here,  but  this 
weather  allows  of  no  forecast  of  when.  Let  me  hear  of 
your  return.  It  would  (weather  permitting  and  your 
work)  be  pleasant  to  have  your  appreciation  of  some  of 
the  upper  Frenchmen  while  it  is  new.  I  feel  like  the  one 
who  '  ploughs  with  pain  his  native  lea.'  I  go  nowhere, 
see,  hear,  know  nothing. — Yes,  I  went  to  see  Salvini  on 
Friday.  Saturday  gave  the  newspaper  criticism,  and 
after  observing  the  true  and  only  Othello,  you  should  have 
read  them  !  Faint,  prim,  puling  exceptions  to  this  and 
that :  Like  political  England  they  want  peace — not  to 
be  disturbed.  They  harp  on  Othello's  '  Tenderness.' 
Do  you  perceive  much  of  it  in  reading  the  play  ? — one 
of  the  finest  in  action  of  Shakespeare,  lowest  of  the  great 
plays  in  conception. — Yours  ever  warmly, 

George  Meredith. 

To  John  Morley. 

Box  Hill,  June  29,  1875. 

My  dear  Morley, — ^Most  foul !  But  postponements, 
as  you  justly  remind  me,  destroy  the  integrity  of  men, 


LETTERS  OF  GEORGE  MEREDITH        257 

and  the  ruins  of  our  appointment  fall  in  a  heap  on  the 
next,  and  down  we  shall  go  into  the  dark  and  unknown 
vast  if  we  do  not  lay  tight  hold  of  the  nearest  branch, 
and  swear — 

All  or  nothing  !  I  can't  endure  your  coming  for  only 
a  night  and  two  bits  of  days  :  a  Thursday  without  head 
and  a  Friday  without  bottom.  TeU  me  that  though  all 
London  should  crave  for  you  open-mouthed,  you  come  on 
Wednesday  week,  not  to  leave  us  at  least  before  Friday. 
But  don't  be  due  anywhere  till  that  week  is  done. 

Come  on  Wednesday  in  time  for  a  French  breakfast  in 
the  garden  about  I  past  11.  You  have  no  idea  how  nice 
it  is.  We  tried  it  on  Sunday  with  three  good  men  and 
an  ancient  Hock,  and  I  assure  you,  that  staid  and  formal 
day  danced  to  its  end  like  an  ecclesiastic  that  has  re- 
ceived the  promise  of  a  bishopric.  Say,  then,  Wednesday 
week,  and  here  before  |  past  11.  Haply  we  shall  have 
majestic  July  weather.  Write,  bind  thyself.  From  me 
and  mine  to  you  and  yours  all  sweet  greetings  ! — Yours, 

George  Meredith. 

To  John  Morley. 

Box  Hill,  July  1,  1875. 

My  dear  Morley, — We  stipulate  for  you,  that  we  are 
not  to  expect  you  in  soaking  weather. 

Because  (and  here  lies  the  sting  of  it,  only  to  be  obliter- 
ated by  our  welcome  of  you)  you  come  so  rarely  that  we 
are  anxious  to  make  a  great  occasion  of  it :  great,  not 
grand,  and  much  radiancy  is  required  of  the  heavens 
when  that  you  do  come.  Therefore  should  July  continue 
to  squeeze  a  sponge,  again  postpone.  But  if  it  promises 
fair  on  Tuesday,  tell  me  at  what  early  hour  (wTiting  on 
Tuesday,  with  a  calculating  eye  aloft)  I  may  go  to  the 
Station  to  meet  you  and  bring  you  to 

The  Breakfast. 

VOL.  L — K 


258        LETTERS  OF  GEORGE  MEREDITH 

I  wish  I  knew  of  conversible  fellows  to  ask  to  meet 
you.  One  can  meet,  I  am  told,  remarkable  characters, 
but  the  speechful,  the  reciprocating,  the  sunny  and  un- 
presumptuous,  who  speak  from  the  healthy  breast  of 
that  dear  Mother  of  us,  the  Moment, — where  are  they  to 
be  foimd  ? 

I  have  looked,  I  forgot  to  tell  you,  at  Tennyson's 
'  Queen  Mary,'  and  I  had  great  pleasure  of  my  reading.  I 
saw  no  trace  of  power,  but  the  statehness,  the  fine  tone, 
the  high  tone,  of  some  passages,  hit  me  hard.  Curiously 
too,  in  him,  the  prose  is  crisp,  salient,  excellent.  The 
Songs,  if  we  had  not  Shakespeare's  to  show  what  are  not 
literary  forcings  to  catch  a  theme  to  point  a  comparison, 
would  do.  As  it  is,  '  Milking  the  cow  '  smells  of  milking 
the  brain.  Mary's  '  Low-low  '  is  an  instance  of  public 
consciousness — ^before  Victoria's  people. — But  the  work 
seems  to  me  to  be  good,  and  how  glad  I  am  to  have  it 
of  him  ! — Your  faithful  George  Meredith. 

To  John  Morley. 

Box  Hill,  August  12,  1875. 

My  dear  Morley, — I  must  write  now,  though  I  have 
little  time  to  give  a  faint  sketch  of  what  I  have  to  say  of 
'  Rousseau.'  It  has  moved  me  as  few  books  have  done. 
I  had  but  a  poor  knowledge,  from  never  having  read  a 
compact  history  of  this  period  when  Wit,  Science  and 
Sentiment  contended,  and  the  latter,  which  was  to  fade 
before  the  other  two,  struck  an  unsoimd  Age  with  the 
ring  of  the  ultimate  Truth.  Rousseau  was  the  very 
key-note. — ^You  have  handled  him  with  consummate 
mastery  :  and  none  can  loiow  the  trial  you  have  sus- 
tained better  than  he  who  as  I  do  penetrates  to  the  man, 
hating  this  in  him,  warming  to  that,  alternately,  in- 
cessantly. But  here  is  one  of  the  most  curious  and  one 
of  the  grandest  problems  of  humanity,  which  you  have 


LETTERS  OF  GEORGE  MEREDITH         259 

handled  perfectly.  How  unjust  I  was  to  the  printed 
portion  in  the  '  Fortnightly  '  !  Or  may  one  be  pardoned 
for  not  having  seen  the  fulness  of  the  work  there  ?  I 
did  not  discredit  you  for  style  (excepting  a  point  or  two), 
but  exactly  for  that  which  I  find  in  the  book — mastery 
of  every  note  of  that  evasive  heart,  and  a  power  of  showing 
the  Heroic  coward  complete  in  his  contradictions.  To 
my  mind  it  is — and  it  will  be  to  me — one  of  the  most 
precious  of  studies.  It  is  one  of  the  wisest  of  books. 
For  such  is  the  nature  of  Rousseau  that  his  notes  are  the 
deepest  and  highest  within  the  scale  of  philosophy,  and 
the  very  lowest.  But  (with  an  exception  or  two  to  be 
named  when  I  meet  you,  and  soon,  and  here,  I  hope) 
you  touch  all  equably,  delicately,  fillingly,  with  volume 
where  needful. — I  cannot  exhaust  my  admiration.  I 
am  at  times  electrified  by  companion  ideas  of  my  own.^ — 
To  me  the  study  has  a  charm  that  flings  off  monotony. 
Speaking  critically  for  the  multitude  (in  the  manner  of 
modem  criticism)  monotony  is  a  character  of  the  subject 
and  the  book  :  wherefore  it  has  not  been  popular.  And 
with  reviewers  3  things  present  and  one  absent  were 
required  :  Competency  of  knowledge,  quick  sympathy 
for  the  shifting  marvellous  creature  your  theme,  a  com- 
prehension of  the  mystery  of  what  we  are — and  no  pre- 
judice. The  little  g  for  G  was  turned  on  you  heavily. — 
But  such  a  fate  befalling  a  book  like  this  should  be  con- 
solation, as  to  rewards  for  value,  to  novehsts  and  pigmies. 
Can  you  by  chance  come  to  us  next  week  ?  It  will 
delight  me  infinitely.  I  have  to  talk  over  Rousseau  with 
you,  much  to  say.  I  made  no  marks,  but  I  will  at  whiles, 
and  meantime  I  remember  enough  to  occupy  us. — Your 
faithfuUest  George  Meredith. 

J  j;  Mr.  John  Dennis  tells  how,  sitting  in  the  Garrick  Club  in 
the  early  hours  of  the  morning,  Meredith  told  him  he  had 


260        LETTERS  OF  GEORGE  MEREDITH 

composed  an  address  to  Carlyle  on  his  eightieth  birthday. 
This  he  wrote  down  and  gave  to  Mr.  Dennis. 

To  Carlyle 

Garrick  Club. 

This  eightieth  year  of  thine  sits  crowned  in  hght 

To  hft  our  England  from  her  fleshly  mire  : 

Two  generations  view  thee  as  a  fire 

Whence  they  have   drawn  what  burns   in   them   most 

bright : 
For  thou  hast  bared  the  roots  of  life  with  sight 
Piercing  ;   in  language  stronger  than  the  lyre  : 
And  thou  hast  shown  the  way  must  man  aspire, 
Is  through  the  old  sweat  and  anguish  Adamite, 
As  at  the  first.     Unsweet  might  seem  his  fate. 
Sole  with  a  spade  between  the  stars  of  earth  ! — 
Giving  much  labour  for  his  little  mirth, 
And  soldier-service  till  he  fail  to  strike  : 
But  such  thine  was,  and  thine  to  contemplate 
Shall  quicken  young  ambition  for  the  like. 

George  M. 


To  Miss  Alice  Brandreth.^ 

Box  Hill,  Feb.  11,  1876. 
Wife  being  absent,  I  could  find 
Nought  to  say  to  Rosalind. 
She  returns,  and  swift  as  wind 
Now  I  write  to  Rosalind. 
— ^Your  Orlando,  reared  as  hind. 
Was  fit  mate  for  Rosalind. 
(When  his  manners  were  refined) 
He  had  youth  like  Rosalind. 

*  In  reply  to  an  invitation  from  hor  to  read  the  part  of  Bassanio  in 
the  Merchant  of  Venice.     See  footnote  (2)  page  264. 


LETTERS  OF  GEORGE  MEREDITH         261 

— Shall  a  man  in  grey  declined 
Seem  the  same  for  Rosalind  ? 
Yea,  though  merely  aged  in  rind. 
Is  he  worthy  Rosalind  ? 
This  in  grave  debate  should  bind 
Parliaments  and  Rosalind. 
— Still  if  captious,  wayward,  blind, 
And  the  rest  of  't,  Rosalind 
Should  insist, — if  to  her  mind 
(If  she  have  one)  Rosalind 
Thinks  me  (if  to  thought  inclined 
Ever),  I  with  Rosalind 
(And  I  say  it,  having  dined, 
Slept  and  dreamed  of  Rosalind) 
I  will  do  my  best ;   and  kind 
Prove  our  audience,  Rosalind  ! 
Take  these  words  for  treaty  signed 
— No  Orlando,  Rosalind  ! 
But  a  man  with  wrinkles  lined, 
Vows  to  read  with  Rosalind. 


To  Frederick  Greemvood. 

Box  Hill,  March  9,  1876. 

My  dear  GE,EE]sr\vooD, — Don't  laugh  at  my  simplicity  : 
I  'm  treating  you  as  if  you  really  meant  to  come.  And 
who  knows  ?  Faith  has  been  rewarded  and  un faith 
astounded  before  now.  We  have  a  fine  South-Wester 
blowing,  likely  to  hold  on  for  some  days.  Will  you  come 
this  Saturday  early  ? — or  will  it  hit  you  better  to  appoint 
the  next  ?  I  have  written  it,  you  see,  with  the  lovely 
gravity  I  can  assume.  Still,  if  you  do  come  I  shall 
celebrate  the  event  and  make  a  date  of  it.  Jupiter,  they 
say,  in  his  Godly  irony  grants  mortals  their  wishes.  I 
don't  believe  in  the  irony,  but  I  do  in  accidents,  and  that 


262         LETTERS  OF  GEORGE  MEREDITH 

now  and  then  a  loaf  tumbles  out  of  Jupiter's  bread  basket. 
0  tumble,  come  !     I  've  a  great  appetite  for  you. 


To  John  MorUy. 

Box  Hill,  March  28,  1876. 

My  dear  Morley, — For  some  time  I  have  been  enter- 
taining myself  with  the  notion  that  you  went  with  the 
Governor-General  to  Rome  and  Naples,  and  so  could 
not  give  me  a  chance  of  seeing  you  here.  You  partly 
proposed  for  February  !  Will  there  be  a  likelihood  of 
it  in  April  ?  You  know  the  pleasure  and  refreshment  it 
is  to  me. — I  am  busy,  idly  busy  with  verse  :  unable  to 
let  go  forth  that  which  ought  not  to  have  so  much  time 
wasted  on  it,  therefore  discontented  with  the  work  and 
myself.  Your  voice  would  brace  me.  What  is  it  occupies 
you  ?  Hard  work,  if  you  have  not  been  absent,  but  what 
kind  of  work  ?  I  am  particularly  curious  to  read  you 
this  month,  on  the  question  of  Empress,  and  as  to  how 
you  interpret  Disraeli's  speeches.  Is  it  a  genial  contempt 
for  the  House,  or  dotage  ?  does  he  laugh  at  the  gentiles, 
or  but  flounder  before  them  1  I  fancy  the  answer  to  be 
that  he  is  heartily  sick  of  the  task  his  Imperial  mistress 
imposed  on  him  at  a  moment  when  he  did  not  know  the 
English  people  so  well. 

For  the  rest  Radicalism  will  have  nothing  to  regret  in 
the  passing  of  the  Bill. 


To  John  Morley, 

Box  Hill,  Afril  12,  1876. 

My  dear  Morley, — ^The  essay  on  Macaulay  is  masterly, 
perfectly  balanced,  clear,  sound,  delightful  with  apt 
expression  in  the  dehvery  of  a  just  sentence.  I  find  this 
fault :  I  do  not  think  it  right  that  you  should  '  stumble  ' 


LETTERS  OF  GEORGE  MEREDITH        263 

on  the  quotation  concerning  Tickell  and  Addison,  where- 
with to  oppose  Macaulay  to  Southey,  when  you  have  just 
given  the  latter  at  his  best.  We  all  go  with  you  in  your 
verdict,  only  in  a  literary  sense  we  feel  that  you  are  below 
your  own  mark  here  for  an  instant. — Of  course  you  are 
not  comparing  him  with  Southey,  but  casting  light  on 
his  style  from  the  first  lamp  to  hand.  All  the  more 
however  does  it  seem  to  me  that  you  should  in  such  a  case 
be  careful  of  your  selection  of  an  example,  which  you 
may  well  cry  horror  and  thrice  horror  upon,  as  it  stands 
where  you  have  placed  it,  and  which  is  yet  inoffensive 
enough  in  its  natural  place.  Nay,  here  I  should  defend 
the  style  of  Macaulay,  on  whom  I  see  the  advocate's 
wig  while  I  hear  him  thumping  excusably  in  the  ad- 
vocate's manner  to  defend  those  two.  Detestable  as  is 
the  iterated  blow  on  '  villany,'  it  is  only  so  as  old  Bailey 
eloquence  is  so,  and  appears  to  be  vehement  with  the 
good  object  of  wresting  life  or  character  from  a  stupid 
Jury.  But  if  you  had  apposed  some  description  of 
William  or  Luxembourg  or  Marlborough,  I  should  have 
been  better  satisfied. — On  this  point  I  feel  so  sm'e,  that 
I  am  anxious  you  should  consider  about  it  before  you 
repubhsh  the  essay.  And  I  will  not  ask  pardon  of  a 
great  writer  and  student  for  drawing  attention  to  what 
looks  but  little. 

A  minor  defect,  of  a  kind  that  I  will  direct  your  eye  to 
in  Rousseau,  is  at  '  blaze  and  glare,'  or  amplification  in 
language  which  is  not  an  extension  of  the  idea  or  forti- 
fication of  the  image.  There  will  be  a  glare  if  there 
is  a  blaze,  but  that  is  nothing  compared  with  the  twice 
insisted-upon  harshness  of  sound,  in  consideration  that  it 
is  not  necessary  twice. — So  fair  is  your  work  to  me  that 
I  am  persecuted  by  such  generally  imperceptible  specks 
on  it. 

Enclosed  is  a  poem  of  3  verses  for  the  '  Fortnightly,' 


264        LETTERS  OF  GEORGE  MEREDITH 

if  you  think  it  worthy.^  If  you  can  find  the  Sonnet  to 
Carlyle  I  shall  be  glad  :  I  am  not  sure  of  my  memory. — 
Ever  your  faithfullest  George  Meredith. 


To  Mrs.  Brandreih. 

Box  Hnx.  Dorking, 
April  13,  1876. 

Dear  Mrs.  Brandreth, —  .  .  .  Please  to  ask  my  dear 
Beatrice — Rosalind — Katherine  that  I  bear  in  mind  the 
scheme  of  writing  a  play  for  her.  Also  she  should  in 
loyalty  be  informed  that  the  Professor  ^  has  been  largely 
corresponding  with  me.  He  starts  (so  was  the  latest 
announcement)  on  the  15th  and  threatens  that  when  at 
Baltimore  he  will  bring  his  whole  mathematical  force 
to  bear  upon  the  Governors  of  the  Hopkins  University 
to  make  them  invite  me  with  honours  to  act  as  his  col- 
league in  the  shape  of  lecturer  on  Poetry  and  Rhetoric. 
Thus  you  see  he  will  insist  on  having  one  of  us  ;  I  have 
lived  near  to  the  Rose,  so  am  sweet  to  him. — I  beg  to  be 
remembered  to  Mr.  Brandreth  and  Katherine,  and  I  am 
ever  your  most  faithful  and  devoted 

George  Meredith. 

To  John  Morley. 

Box  Hnx,  AugiLst  15,  1876. 

My  dear  Morley, — Receive  my  thanks  for  the  bag 
of  golden  grain.  I  am  chained  here  for  a  time  :  in  a 
few  days  I  take  Will  to  Pitfield  ^  to  find  comrades  with  the 
boy  and  girls  there,  previous  to  his  departure  to  school. 
Perhaps  (for  the  truth  is  known  to  you,  so  I  may  as  well 
confess  it :   the  *  harvesters '  are  terrific  :   I  am  spotted 

1  *  A  Ballad  of  Past  Meridian.' 

*  Professor  Sylvester,  the  eminent  mathematician,  who  took  part  in 
many  Shakespeare  readings  at  Mrs.  Brandreth's  and  had  printed  verses 
of  several  hundreds  of  rhymes  to  Rosalind. 

'  James  Cotter  Morison  at  this  time  had  Pitfield. 


LETTERS  OF  GEORGE  MEREDITH         265 

red  mounds,  I  smile  disdainfully  at  the  voluptuousness 
that  is  not  largely  composed  of  scratching  :  I  am  raw  : 
therefore  there  can  be  no  chance  of  seeing  you  here 
before  October)  perhaps,  then,  I  might  come  to  you  for 
a  day  on  my  way  to  Hawkhurst,  if  I  go  there  ;  and  there 
is  some  thought  of  it.  No  mountains  for  me  this  year. 
But  the  talk  I  get  with  you  is  mountain  atmosphere  to 
the  soul. — I  have  read  your  '  Robespierre.'  It  sent  me 
to  Carlyle.  He  bears  the  re-reading.  Still  that  kind  of 
thing  wiU  not  do.  It  is  our  only  History  of  the  French 
Revolution,  and  is  in  as  much  disorder  as  the  Paris  of 
Danton.  Evidently  this  is  your  work  to  be  done. — 
Have  you  not  trimmed  your  style  ?  The  sentences  are 
more  compressed,  not  at  such  stretch.  The  '  picturing  ' 
of  Robespierre  seems  to  me  the  best  that  could  be  done 
in  prose  ;  sober,  acute  :  the  mind  being  all  round  him 
while  the  finger  is  upon  him.  You  do  not  condemn,  do 
not  apologise  for  him,  you  explain  him  :  and  also  the 
time.  The  critical  and  the  narrative  power  now  go 
well  hand  in  hand.  A  little  further  predominance  to 
the  latter,  will  make  yours  the  finest  of  historical  styles  : 
and  as  there  cannot  be  a  theme  more  spacious  to  imagina- 
tion than  the  French  Revolution,  I  commend  you  to  it 
for  a  few  years  to  come.  I  wish  it  lay  as  clear  before 
me,  as  open  to  my  capacity. — I  shall  be  glad  of  the  2nd 
Part  of  your  study. — Harrison  has  written  to  me  of  a 
mid-way  meeting  for  a  walk  ;  and  written  again,  fearful 
of  Phoebus'  beams.  I  am  more  fearful  of  rousing  the 
ire  of  the  God  by  appearing  to  shun  them  ;  I  climb  the 
hills  of  mint  and  thyme,  and  can  compare  myself  only 
to  the  Leg  of  Mutton  stewing  in  herbs  a  sept  heures. 
To  say  I  sweat  is  to  say  an  angel  is  holy.  I  am  trans- 
figured in  my  original  elements — fire  and  water. — I  won't 
talk  of  the  East :  I  should  run  to  the  length  of  2  leaders. 
I  am  compelled  to   be   quite   against   my  instincts.     I 


266        LETTERS  OF  GEORGE  MEREDITH 

cannot  think  very  much  of  the  Servians.  As  to  Christian 
against  Turk  ; — to  talk  in  old  Tory  fashion,  the  Turk's 
rehgion  is  that  of  a  gentleman  by  comparison.  The 
Christian  is  intended  to  be  Russia's  catspaw.  Yet  of 
course  one  sees  that  a  nation  canceled  by  the  Hareem 
must  be  extinguished  :  it  cannot  live  when  it  has  ceased 
to  live  in  camp  and  takes  to  the  Hareem  for  a  diversion. 
Where  women  are  women  but  for  the  bed,  there  is  dis- 
solution, brain  and  heart  paralysis, — Yes,  Beaconsfield  ! 
— ^You  were  wonderfully  good  in  allowing  my  ballad  ^  to 
run  to  that  length :  I  was  ashamed,  and  yet  I  had  to  exer- 
cise restraint  to  keep  back  more  verses.  I  will  not  press 
you,  but  you  shall  tell  me  if  you  are  inclined  to  have  other 
samples  of  my  stores  ;  and  if  not,  be  sure  I  cannot  take 
offence. — One  who  would  fain  see  you  again — Oswald 
Crawfurd — asked  warmly  of  you  the  other  day.  I  heard 
of  a  lady  who  wanted  to  fortify  herself  in  her  manner 
of  educating  a  son  and  bought  '  Compromise,'  which 
strengthened  her.  This  laurel  to  you — a  prouder  than 
poet's  !  Adieu.  I  wish  it  were  this  evening  or  to-morrow 
we  were  to  meet ! 


To  Miss  Alice  Brandreth. 

Box  Hnx,  August  20,  1876. 

My  dear  Miss  Brandreth, — This  is  to  send  you  on 
your  way  with  the  assurances  that  we  poor  abandoned 
souls  look  for  your  return  ^ — with  the  boots  of  Kazan  ! 
(large  sized  feet).  The  spelling  of  your  letter  shows 
carefulness.  But  what  do  you  mean  by  '  sitting,  nor 
taking  in  much  beside  the  rhythm  '  ?  Do  you  mean,  in 
addition  to  ?  or  next  neighbour  to  ?  I  am  sure  you  enjoy 
that  heavenly  delight  of  young  London  ladies  in  soUtude, 

^  '  A  Ballad  of  Fair  Ladies  in  Revolt.' 

*  Miss  Alice  Brandreth  was  starting  with  her  mother  and  father  for 
Russia,  Mr.  Brandreth  being  one  of  the  English  delegates  at  the 
Oriental  Congress  hold  in  St.  Petersbuig  in  September  1876. 


LETTERS  OF  GEORGE  MEREDITH        267 

which  consists  in  the  poetic  contemplation  of  themselves 
as  looked  on  by  the  eternal  hills  :  and  to  think  you  in- 
capable of  this  exquisite  reverie  is  to  be  unjust  to  you. — 
One  topic  of  a  serious  letter  to  you  would  be  the  fate  of 
those  Russian  Professors  :  for  it  has  been  remarked  of 
you,  that  the  professor  is  your  natural  prey  ;  that  you 
cannot  but  make  him  incandescent,  and  are  almost  irre- 
sponsible in  the  fatality  you  exercise.  But  to  say  this 
much  is  to  elevate  and  dignify  you  at  the  cost  of  your 
immortal  nature.  Wherefore  I  would  adjure  you  (since 
these  sclavic  professors  are  desperate  men)  to  commence 
your  conversation  with  them  by  asking  each  :  '  Do  you 
keep  pistols  and  powder  ?  '  smiling  as  you  ask  it,  and 
speaking  with  that  artlessness  which  has  done  for  every 
man  Jack  of  a  professor  in  old  England.  Should  they 
wish  to  know  why  you  ask,  explain  to  them  of  course 
that  you  are  anxious  for  their  brains. 

As  to  the  Drama  :  it  is  ill-conceived  as  yet.  I  have 
been  very  busy  :  what  I  want  is  to  lie  fallow  for  a  week, 
and  I  can't  see  the  week.  Pecks  of  poetry  have  been 
coming  from  me.  Hovrever  I  will  bear  in  mind  that  you 
wish  the  thing  done. — May  fair  weather  attend  you  ! 
I  desire  you  to  present  my  compliments  to  your  father 
and  mother,  and  tell  them,  I  pray,  that  my  vows  are 
most  heartily  offered  for  the  comfort  of  their  journey, 
and  against  the  prediction  that  the  drift  of  the  Oriental 
Congress  will  be  to  Constantinople.  Adieu  :  my  wife 
would  send  the  warmest  messages  were  she  presiding 
over  this  pen. — Your  faithfullest     George  Meredith. 

To  John  Morley. 

Box  Hill,  Sept.  8,  1876. 

My  dear  Morley, — We  must  by  the  nature  of  the 
case  be  fixtures  in  the  Hat-box.    My  pavilion  ^  is  in  course 

^  The  chalet  in  the  garden. 


268         LETTERS  OF  GEORGE  MEREDITH 

of  edification  to  receive  me.  But  hear  my  proposal : 
There  is  an  old  farm-house,  long-windowed,  red-bricked, 
Elizabethan,  just  far  enough  from  us  to  ensure  you  the 
sense  of  solitude,  near  enough  to  make  it  possible  to  meet : 
South-west  of  Dorking  :  between  the  chalk  hills  and  the 
sand,  set  in  lovely  rolling  country  :  with  the  moral 
attraction  to  you  that  George  Eliot  has  resided  there  ; 
backed  by  a  pinewood  that  was  sown  by  Heaven's  hand 
for  contemplation's  mood  :  and  this  used  to  be  let  for 
4  guineas  per  week.  Shall  I  walk  to  it  and  see  if  it  is 
open  ?  Or  better,  will  you  come  down  and  visit  it  with 
me  ?  It  is  about  2|  miles  from  Dorking  on  the  road  to 
Guildford.  I  think  this  a  most  excellent  proposal. — Let 
me  add  that  our  cottage  would  be  for  you  at  any  price, 
were  it  at  all  in  our  plans  to  move. — I  shall  hope  to  hear 
from  you.  Harrison  was  here  yesterday.  We  are  of 
one  mind  in  admiration  of  '  Robespierre.'  But  he  thinks 
you  are  almost  too  scathing  of  Disraeli. — Your  faith- 
fullest  George  Meredith. 


To  John  Morley. 

Box  Hill,  Seft,  13,  1876. 

My  dear  Morley, — There  is  no  moving  Marie  ;  here 
she  must  wait,  and  sorely  against  her  wish.  We  have 
no  wishes  left,  but  are  the  instruments  of  fate. 

The  more  to  confound  me,  the  Rookery  Farm  is  let 
up  to  the  end  of  October. 

To-morrow  I  take  our  dear  old  Will  to  his  first  taste 
of  School — at  Ewell,  under  a  certain  Dr.  Behr,  one  time 
a  master  at  Winchester,  well  recommended  to  me  ;  and 
I  like  the  look  of  the  establishment. — This  reminds  me, 
Mrs.  Harrison  told  me  it  was  the  Admiral's  Mr.  Lake,  the 
*  free-thinking  '  schoolmaster  of  his  boys,  who  wrote  in 
the  '  Spectator  '  concerning  you.     Ahem. — Behr  simply 


LETTERS  OF  GEORGE  MEREDITH         269 

assures  me  that  no  more  than  the  common  doses  of  theo- 
logy will  be  given,  and  with  that  I  must  be  satisfied. 
I  do  not  think  it  well  to  be  howking  about  the  beds  where 
younkers  grow,  to  clip  their  roots  and  precipitate  the 
natural  acerbities  in  any  given  direction.  Young 
sceptics  will  hardly  avoid  being  young  cynics.  I  burn 
for  converse  with  you. — Very  busy  with  poems. — Your 
ever  faithful  George  Meredith. 


To  Miss  Alice  Brandrelh. 

Box  Hill,  Nov.  3,  1876. 

My  dear  Miss  Brandreth, — I  know  Palgrave  Simpson, 
— am  very  fond  of  him,  and  believe  he  will  do  anything 
for  me,  until  he  knows  you,  when  he  will  be  subject  to  a 
new  allegiance.  If  you  and  I  do  not  clash,  therefore, 
you  may  count  on  him.  I  will  see  him  or  write  to  him. 
He  is  of  ripe  age,  turned  of  70,  very  handsome,  and  with 
a  consuming  passion  for  the  stage  ;  and  the  dear  heart 
of  him  so  frankly  nourisha,ble  by  flattery  that  he  will 
open  his  mouth  and  shut  his  eyes  and  take  it  in  a  ladle, 
so  he  will  exactly  suit  you. 

How  I  do  dislike  (in  the  abstract)  men  of  a  certain 
age  who  pretend  to  refuse  their  spoonful,  and  all  the 
while  their  honest  old  lips  are  dribbling  at  the  corners  : 
as  to  the  coming  to  town,  let  me  come  on  the  Thursday 
of  the  week  after  the  one  your  Mother  suggests  :  and 
go  on  Friday.  One  night  of  London.  And  besides  I 
am  very  busy  and  shall  get  no  work  done  for  next  year 
if  I  cease  to  lash  myself,  and  I  am  disturbed  about  my 
lecture  1  and  doubt  if  it  will  please.  If  you  are  moved  to 
do  Idndness,  have  my  wife  the  day  before  I  come  and 
whisk  her  away  to  music  or  the  play.  For  my  part  I 
don't  like  to  leave  my  baby  gal  alone  in  the  house  for 


1  < 


On  the  Idea  of  Comedy.' 


270        LETTERS  OF  GEORGE  MEREDITH 

more  than  one  night — one  does  not  matter.  My  wife 
will  write  to  your  mother.  I  beg  you  to  remember  me 
warmly  to  your  father  and  Mother  both,  and  believe  me 
for  life  your  devoted  servant  and  lord, 

George  Meredith. 

To  Mrs.  Brandreth. 

Box  Hill,  Nov.  14,  1876. 

Dear  Mrs.  Brandreth, — To  sit  with  you  all  three 
and  hear  of  your  tour  and  of  the  long  leashes  of  the 
Russian  Professors  reduced  by  Miss  Brandreth  to  a  state 
of  spiritual  serfage,  would  be  delightful,  and  what  I  have 
hoped  for  :  but  so  it  chances,  I  am  under  plight  of 
promise  to  go  to  Brighton  to  my  friend  Mr.  Morley  on 

Thursday,  and  this  involves  Friday. — I  think  Miss 

ought  to  be  informed  that  our  poor  sample  of  a  Professor 

the  grey prodigious  in  rhyming  power,  returned  to 

England  during  her  absence — alas  !  for  him — and  was 
seen  at  the  Athenaeum.  I  am  told  that  he  did  not 
remain  long — as  why  should  the  unhappy  man,  the  sun 
being  as  distant  and  veiled  as  in  the  Black  Season  at  the 
North  Pole. 

I  hear  from  Eva  that  ]\Iiss  Brandreth  will  make  an 
entry  into  our  valley  some  time  this  month.  How  grand 
it  would  have  been  in  the  Boots  of  Kazan  !  But  in  any 
form  it  will  be  a  wonderful  refreshment  to  us.  Please  to 
give  my  very  warm  regards  to  Mr.  Brandreth,  and  my 
cordial  salutes  to  my  Katherine  (tamed),  and  believe  me 
your  most  faithful  and  devoted     George  Meredith. 

To  John  Morley. 

Saturday. 

Dearest  M., — One  hne.  All  went  well.^  Morison  in 
one    of    his   enthusiasms — which    make   one   remember 

'  A  lecture, '  On  the  Idea  of  Comedy  and  the  Uses  of  the  Comic  Spirit,' 
delivered  at  the  London  Institution,  February  1,  1877. 


LETTERS  OF  GEORGE  MEREDITH        271 

that  one  has  word  praise.  Audience  very  attentive  and 
indulgent.  Time  1  h.  25  m.  and  no  one  left  the  hall,  so 
that  I  may  imagine  there  was  interest  in  the  lecture. 
Pace  moderate  :  but  Morison  thinks  I  was  intelligible 
chiefly  by  the  distinctness  of  articulation. 

To  Miss  Alice  Brandreth. 

Box  Hill,  Feb.  28,  1877. 

My  dear  Miss  Brandreth, — I  have  too  much  work 
to  be  in  town  to-morrow,  and  my  promise  to  myself  to 
go  to  Dannreuther's  concert  next  time,  was  but  my  way 
of  saying  how  much  I  liked  the  last.  Otherwise  the 
pleasure  of  being  led  there  by  you  would  be,  as  it  were, 
to  be  prepared  by  a  poet  to  sit  with  the  Muses.  I  know 
you  will  be  in  full  sympathy  with  one  who  chances  to 
have  said  more  than  he  meant ;  and  indeed  you  should 
be  ;  for  by  and  by  (yes,  it  must  be  so)  a  certain  door  will 
have  to  be  broken  open  and  a  room  laid  bare  with  many 
Tops  in  it,  the  humming  and  the  peg,  each  with  his  history 
of  ONE  who  spun  him — and  now  ? — so  innocently  !  in 
my  Dannreuther  fashion  on  that  occasion  I  shall  come 
forward  to  plead  for  you. — Your  very  devoted 

George  Meredith. 

To  Miss  Alice  Brandreth. 

Gordon,  Jim, 

Life  and  Limb 

Risking,  'cause  it  is  his  whim, 

Hounds  to  f oiler. 

Breaks  his  collar- 

Bone  while  giving  a  view-holler. 

Ain't  this  news  ? 

What 's  more  it 's  true, 

Then  in  bed  the  poor  lad  stews  ; 


272        LETTERS  OF  GEORGE  MEREDITH 

His  neck  twirliiig 

Mr.  Curling 

Straight  has  set  like  surgeon  sterling.^ 

George  IVIeredith. 

To  John  Morley. 

Box  Hill,  March  31,  1877. 

My  dear  Morley, — We  have  now  a  bedroom  to  offer 
you  and  your  wife.  Will  you  come  ?  And  can  you 
come  before  the  13th  April  ?  It  will  rejoice  us  to  see 
you,  and  refresh  me. 

Remember  that  it  is  your  habit  peremptorily  to  cry 
against  invitations  in  harvest-Bug-time.  Therefore  we 
think  you  due  to  us  now. 

And  I  want  you  to  see  my  cottage — annexe — 
chalet  on  the  terrace.  I  think  you  will  agree  with  me, 
that  it  is  the  prettiest  to  be  foxind,  the  view  is  without 
a  match  in  Surrey.  The  interior  full  of  light,  which 
can  be  moderated  ;  and  while  surrounded  by  firs,  I  look 
over  the  slope  of  our  green  hill  to  the  ridges  of  Leith, 
round  to  Ranmore,  and  the  half  of  Norbury. 

I  have  the  hope  that  if  you  can  come  you  will.  Let 
it  be  Both  of  you. 

I  am  very  busy,  doing  little,  but  doing  it  diligently, 
which  you  know  to  mean  well. 

The  article  on  Comedy  is  out :  cursed  with  misprints 
that  make  me  dance  gadfly-bitten. 

I  am  greatly  taken  with  Goldwin  Smith's  article,  I 
could  not  have  written  it,  but  the  idea  has  been  mine. 

Trollope's  art.  on  Cicero  shows  him  to  have  a  feeling 
for  his  hero.  It  reads  curiously  as  though  he  were  ad- 
dressing a  class  of  good  young  men.  This  is  the  effect 
of  the  style,   or  absence  of  style.     One  likes  him  for 

*  James  Edward  Henry  Gordon,  a  pioneer  oloctrical  engineer  and  a 
hard  rider  to  hounds.     He  married  Miss  Alice  Brandreth. 


LETTERS  OF  GEORGE  MEREDITH        273 

working  in  that  mine  :  only, — and  yet  I  like  a  certain 
kind  of  open-mindedness.  By  the  way,  in  the  last 
book  noticed  (by  Garnett,  is  it  ?),  I  find  '  By  the  first 
Hving  Italian  poet.'  The  possible  English  of  this  is,  that 
the  preceding  have  been  dead  ones.  Garnett  has  not  to 
be  taught  English,  but  here  is  an  example  of  the  bad 
effect  of  writing  much  for  journals.  '  First  of  Hving  Ital. 
poets,'  he  means. 

0  my  dear  Morley,  come  if  only  you  can,  for  you  are 
a  great  delight  to  me  when  I  see  you.  My  wife  is  in 
the  cottage  below,  or  she  would  send  messages  to  yours. 


To  Admiral  Maxse} 

Box  Hill,  March  31,  1877. 

My  dear  Adiniiiial, — I  can't  but  admire  IMrs.  Besant 
for  her  courage.  On  the  whole  I  must  approve  the 
pubhcation,  though  to  me  the  book  is  repulsive.  I  have 
a  senseless  shrinking  from  it.  More  horrible  scenes  of 
animal  life  can  hardly  be  suggested.  They  effectually 
deprive  me  of  appetite.  The  male — the  female.  Lord 
God! 

Your  remarks  on  Odger  were  very  good,  I  was  glad 
to  see  them. 

You  tallv  of  a  Surrey  walk.  Once  more  you  flash  the 
old  delusive  flag  of  a  hohday  before  me.  Why  do  you 
not  come  ?  I  am  here.  I  have  not  removed  from  here 
for  several  years. — Yours  ever  warmly, 

George  Meredith. 

By  the  way,  I  am  in  my  Chalet :  well  worth  a  visit. 
The  second  room  of  it  contains  the  hammock-cot : 
enviable  the  sleeper  therein  ! 

^  Captain  Maxse  was  promoted  Rear- Admiral  in  1877. 
VOL.  I. — S 


274        LETTERS  OF  GEORGE  MEREDITH 

To  John  Morley. 

Box  Hill,  A-pril  4. 

My  dear  Morley, — May,  then  ! 

But  let  not  this  be  one  of  your  lyrical  postponements 
to  a  phantasm  appointment :  the  most  delusive  gilded 
thing  that  ever  danced  between  Box  Hill  and  Brighton. 

.  .  .  There  are  horrid  errors  in  the  printing  of  the 
*  Comic,'  some,  I  am  afraid,  attributable  to  me  :  I  am 
the  worst  of  correctors  of  my  own  writing. 

I  saw  Myers'  on  George  Sand.  I  took  up  a  friend's 
copy  of  *  19th  Century,'  and  after  the  symposium  turned 
to  see  what  might  be  said  of  our  favourite  : — not  bad, 
with  one  or  two  good  points  well  done  :  as  of  the  efifect 
of  a  female  Gothe  on  the  ardent  males. — It 's  wrong  to  be 
wishing  April  were  May,  for  I  hope  to  get  over  a  great 
deal  of  work  before  then.  But  you  excite  the  unnatural 
wish. 

Well.  The  first  week  in  May.  Are  you  bound  to  me  ? 
— You  will  fimd  more  flowers  about  you — that  is  one 
advantage. — I  hope  your  wife  is  better  already. — Yours 
ever  warmly,  George  Meredith. 

To  John  Morley, 

Box  Hill,  A'pril  5,  1877. 

My  dear  Morley, — I  have  read  Das  Gotthche  this 
morning,  and  with  a  feeling  of  new  strength,  which  is 
like  conception  in  the  brain.  This  is  the  very  spirit  of 
Gothe.  I  have  many  times  come  in  contact  with  it  and 
been  ennobled.  Fault  of  mine,  if  not  more  !  This  high 
discernment,  this  noblest  of  unconsidered  utterance, 
this  is  the  Hymn  for  men.  This  is  to  be  really  prophet- 
like.    All  other  prophecy  is  insolence. 

I  had  not  read  it  last  night,  being  very  busy  : — ^You 
should    know,  I  work  and    sleep  up  in  my  cottage   at 


LETTERS  OF  GEORGE  MEREDITH         275 

present,  and  anything  grander  than  the  days  and  nights 
at  my  porch  you  will  not  find  away  from  the  Alps  :  for 
the  dark  line  of  my  hill  runs  up  to  the  stars,  the  valley 
below  is  a  soundless  gulf.  There  I  pace  like  a  shipman 
before  turning  in.  In  the  day,  with  the  S.  West  blowing, 
I  have  a  brilliant  universe  rolling  up  to  me  : — ^well,  after 
midnight  I  sat  and  thought  of  Gothe  :  and  of  the  sage 
in  him,  and  the  youth.  And,  somewhat  in  his  manner, 
the  enclosed  came  of  it.  I  send  it  to  you  for  your  private 
reading.  It  was  written  off  before  I  went  to  bed,  and 
has  only  the  merit  of  exactly  hitting  its  mark.  I  feel  it 
this  morning  a  poor  return  to  make  to  you  for  Das 
Gbtthche.  But  you  will  excuse  me,  for  the  meaning  of 
speech  is  to  seek  an  audience — if  a  friend,  the  better. 
By  the  way,  some  one  told  me  the  other  day  that  he  felt 
sure  of  you  for  Stoke.  He  said  the  Address  to  the 
Miners  had  made  a  great  impression.     I  trust  so. 

I  am  very  hard  at  work,  writing  a  5  Act  Comedy  in 
verse,  besides  tales,  poems,  touches  of  a  novel,  and 
helping  my  wife  with  a  translation.  But  in  this  room 
of  mine  I  should  have  no  excuse  for  idleness.  In  truth 
work  flows  with  me. — Adieu. — Yours  ever  most  warmly, 

George  Meredith. 
\The  Enclosure.'] 

MENTOR  AND  PUPILS 

MENTOR 

Be  warned  of  steps  retrieved  in  pain. 

PUPILS 

We  have  strength,  we  have  blood,  we  are  young, 

MENTOR 

Youth  sows  the  links,  man  wears  the  chain. 

PUPILS 

Shall  a  sweet  lyric  cease  to  be  sung  ? 


276        LETTERS  OF  GEORGE  MEREDITH 

MENTOR 

The  song  is  short,  the  travail  long. 

PUPILS 

Shall  the  morning  brood  over  her  grave  ? 

MENTOR 

Forge  weapons  now  to  meet  the  throng. 

PUPILS 

There  's  a  bird  flying  white  o'er  the  wave. 

MENTOE 

The  torrent  of  the  blood  control. 

PUPILS 

'Tis  a  steed  bounding  whither  we  will. 

MENTOR 

In  more  than  name  discern  the  soul. 

PUPILS 

There  is  Love  like  a  light  on  the  hill. 

MENTOR 

That  light  of  Love  is  fleeting  fire. 

PUPILS 

In  the  deep  sea  of  Love  let  us  dive. 

MENTOR 

The  test  of  Love  is  in  the  lyre. 

PUPILS 

Give  us  Love,  and  the  lyre  is  ahve. 

MENTOR 

The  chords  are  snapped  by  passion's  touch. 

PUPILS 

She  is  there,  by  the  tall  laurel-rose. 

MENTOR 

You  sway  the  staff — you  grasp  the  crutch. 


LETTERS  OF  GEORGE  MEREDITH        277 

PUPILS 

She  is  beckoning  :   who  shall  oppose  ? 

MENTOR 

Behold  a  giant  in  his  prime. 

PUPILS 

On  her  breasts  are  the  beams  of  the  day. 

MENTOR 

A  cripple  he,  surprised  by  Time  ! 

PUPILS 

She  has  loosened  her  girdle  :  give  way  ! 

To  John  Morley. 

Box  Hill,  Ayril  25,  1877. 

My  dear  Morley, —  ...  At  this  moment  your 
Promise  for  the  first  days  in  May  sleeps  like  any  other 
innocent  in  the  purity  of  infancy.  Is  it  fair  to  rob  it 
of  these  hours  and  call  it  to  misty  delusiveness  before 
its  time  ?  I  am  half  tempted,  with  a  shudder,  to  think 
not ;  and  yet  we  wish  to  know  whether,  as  before  so 
frequently.  .  .  .  All  I  can  say  is,  that  the  nightingale  is 
now  in  sweet  song  :  there  's  not  the  ghost  of  a  harvester 
to  bite  you  even  in  fancy.  I  want  you  to  see  my  study  ; 
I  want  to  see  you.  We  have  a  bedroom  and  dressing- 
room  for  you.  You  will  be  here  upon  the  opening  of  the 
beeches.     Really  the  sweet  o'  the  year. 

To  Lieut. -Colonel  Charles  Brackenhury.'^ 

Box  Hill,  April  25,  1877. 
My  dear  Brackenbury, — Overbusied,  I  can  scarcely 
get  time  to  write — I  have  influence  with  one  publisher 

^  Lieut.-Coloncl  (later  General)  Charles  Brackenbury,  R.A.  He  had 
acted  as  Times  correspondent  in  the  Austrian-Italian  and  Franco - 
Prussian  wars,  and  published,  among  other  works  on  military  subjects, 
European  Armamenia  in  1867,  and  Frederick  the  Grtat. 


278        LETTERS  OF  GEORGE  MEREDITH 

only.  On  reading  the  MS.  I  was  forced  to  the  conclusion 
that  I  must  not  recommend  it.  BeUeve  me,  I  regretted 
it ;  for  I  admire  and  could  love  the  writer.  I  say 
earnestly  it  will  be  better  to  put  the  work  by  :  read, 
meditate,  and  wait  to  produce  another.  She  will  in  time 
do  good  work,  for  she  has  a  head  and  that  which  spins 
the  blood  to  generous  fire.  But  it  is  not  friendly  to  urge 
her  to  publish.  Moreover,  I  doubt  her  getting  pay  for 
it.  If  I  thought  that  she  would,  I  might,  in  view  of 
possible  present  needs,  hesitate.  Still  I  should  not  know 
to  whom  to  recommend  this  kind  of  novel.  She  is  too 
good  to  produce  the  popular  rubbish  :  too  young  to  hit 
higher  moods. 

Shall  we  see  you  in  May  ? — War  ! — Ass  that  I  was, 
not  to  go  for  a  conscript  when  a  lad  !  Soldiering  is  the 
profession  of  the  next  15  years'  future,  I  suppose. — Your 
very  loving  George  Meredith. 

To  F J s. 

Box  Bill,  May  26,  1877. 

What  is  the  meaning  of  this  nasty  silence,  J ! 

You  have  fallen  into  one  of  your  Welsh  tempers.  You 
refuse  all  invitations,  and  you  incite  your  good  wife  to 
gird  at  me  and  pretend  that  it  is  I  who  am  to  blame. 
Shame  on  you,  Cambrian  !  Every  Cambrian  is  not  a 
shaggy  inveterate  in  suspicion,  susceptibility,  thin- 
skinnedness,  and  malice.  Why  must  you  be,  Jones  ? 
I  forgave  you  when  you  slipped  out  of  your  bonded 
engagement  to  take  me  home  with  you  and  give  me 
supper  last  February  1st.  Were  you  insensible  to  my 
generosity  ?  Your  appointment  by  the  seaside  is  a 
patent  invention.     We  don't  believe  a  word  of  it.     Be 

a  man,  J !     Drop  us  word  that  you  mean  to  come  : 

or  if  you  really  must  go  down  to  the  melancholy  widowed 
ocean,  try  a  stroke  of  humour — not  original  with  you, 


LETTERS  OF  GEORGE  MEREDITH        279 

but  amusing  in  its  decorously-faced  recurrence  :  name 
a  day  when  we  may  expect  you,  after  your  return. — We 
have  now  a  bedroom,  and  Will's  room  serves  for  bath- 
room for  husbands  :    but  if  you  will  forego  it,  it  will 

serve  for  a  bedroom  for  E ,  whom  I  (we  all)  should 

be  very  glad  to  see  and  hear.     I  wish  we  had  a  third 

room  for  JVIiss  J . 

Good  be  wi'  ye,  ye  silly  sulky  TsiSy !  Here  's  a  mutton- 
bone  for  you  any  day,  if  you  '11  only  come  and  take  it. — 
Your  countryman  (void  of  their  errors), 

George  Meredith. 


To  John  Morley. 

Box  Hiix,  June  24,  1877. 

My  dear  Morley, — I  hoped  to  hear  from  you  that 
you  were  coming,  and  that  I  might  look  to  a  glad  two 
or  three  days — more  you  never  allow  me  in  imagination, 
nor  practically  so  much.  Write  on  this  head  :  and  do 
not  suppose  that  I  ask  it  because  I  doubt  your  still 
graceful  dexterity  in  evasion.  I  wish  to  see  you,  as 
part  of  my  Summer.  But  why  should  I  write  in  pathos  ! 
I  foresee  the  grin  up  to  the  ear  tips  of  exulting  Puckery. 
And  would  the  world  believe  it  of  its  philosopher,  were  I 
to  inform  the  world  ? 

It  is  this  knowledge,  that  I  see  deep  and  am  dis- 
credited, which  does  for  me. 

I  am  as  a  cracking  earth,  and  soon  it  wiU  be  too  late 
for  the  seed  in  me  to  be  raised  by  rain. 

Whither  go  you  this  year  ?  The  pleasant  book  of 
IMiss  Edwards  ^  turns  my  eyes  to  France  (if  I  can  go  any- 
where) ;  but  Marie  gives  me  not  the  best  tidings  of  your 
wife,  and  hints  at  possible  German  Baths,  and  if  you 
were  sentenced  to  one,  I  might  be  tempted  to  trudge  after 

^  A  Year  in  WeaUrn  France. 


280         LETTERS  OF  GEORGE  JVIEREDITH 

you  and  sojourn  in  your  neighbourhood  a  short  space, 
just  to  taste  German  atmosphere  with  you  and  watch 
you  divided,  as  no  other  man  would  be  so  strangely, 
between  a  certain  solid  intellectual  approbation  of  the 
race,  and  disgust  of  their  manners  :  admiration  of  their 
strengthiness,  and  a  sense  of  their  spiritual  flatness  : 
great  respect  for  them,  and  a  hesitancy  to  determine 
whether  they  are  now  at  their  full  growth,  or  that  there 
is  light  above  them  to  conjure  them  higher  and  higher. 
If  the  latter,  they  are  the  world's  masters.  Adieu,  my 
friend  ;  I  am  very  anxious  about  your  Rose's  health. 
I  do  think  it  would  do  you  both  some  good  to  come  here, 
and  remember,  now  is  our  time  to  offer  our  poor  induce- 
ment :   this  next  three  weeks. — Ever  yours, 

George  Meredith. 


To  Admiral  Maxse. 

Box  Hill,  August  21,  1877. 

My  dear  Fred, — I  heard  of  your  return  from  Morley, 
and  I  received  the  Index  and  read  '  The  Cynic  '  and  a 
remark  on  your  work,  rightl}'-  appreciative.  Morley  is 
now  on  his  way.  As  for  me,  I  fear  I  am  again  condemned 
to  trot  round  my  circle,  like  an  old  horse  at  a  well,  ever- 
lastingly pulling  up  the  same  buckets  full  of  a  similar 
fluid.  I  may  be  precipitated  abroad  by  incapacity  to 
continue  writing  ;  and  once  or  twice  the  case  has  looked 
like  it,  though  I  have  recovered  in  a  middling  fashion  : 
but  not  to  do  the  work  I  call  good — rather  the  character 
of  work  one  is  glad  to  leave  behind,  however  glad  to 
have  accomplished.  Things  look  so  bad  (to  apply  them 
to  my  own  affairs)  for  books  that  I  doubt  whether  I 
ought  to  spend  the  money.  Even  when  they  are  fairly 
good  I  have  the  doubt. 

Adieu.     AU  the  good  powers  be  with  you.     Tell  me 


LETTERS  OF  GEORGE  MEREDITH        281 

when  you  start  for  Dinant  alone.     I  might  .  .  .  but  no. 
— Yours  ever  warmly,  George  Meredith. 


To  William  Uardman. 

Box  Hill,  Sept.  25,  1877. 

Dear  and  honoured  Sir  William, — (In  Sherwood 
Tuck)  I  have  just  come  from  a  visit  to  Brackenbury  at 
Aldershot,  and  I  find  your  letter  :  glad  to  hear  from  you. 
Notice  of  your  departure  for  Wales  had  been  forwarded 
to  me  by  my  private  agency.  I  will  confess  I  think  you 
might  have  given  me  a  day  on  the  Hill,  but  my  friends 
are  all  free  men.  Curses  on  him  that  would  constrain 
them  in  aught !  I  have  not  seen  the  Notice  you  speak 
of,  nor  heard  of  the  same.  Apparently,  to  judge  by  your 
hints,  it  is  by  one  who  has  thought  it  necessary  to  go  mad 
to  deal  with  me  becomingly.  This  may  be  a  compliment, 
but  the  result  is  that  the  pubhc  finds  itself  in  the  presence 
of  not  one  but  Two  Incomprehensibles,  and  the  im- 
pression is  deepened  that  hard  must  be  the  nut  when 
the  cracker  falls  into  contortions. 

If  you  have  not  seen  the  '  New  Quarterly  Magazine  '  for 
July  last,  let  me  commission  D'Troia  to  get  it  from 
Mudie's.  Run  your  eyes  over  '  The  Case  of  General  Ople 
and  Lady  Camper.'  I  think  you  will  recognize  the 
General  and  remember  the  case.  My  love  to  D'Troia 
and  the  young  ladies. — Ever  warmly  yours, 

George  Meredith. 

To  John  Morley. 

Box  Hill,  Oct.  18,  1877. 

My  dear  Morley, — I  hear  you  are  at  philosophic 
Pitfield.  I  wish  to  see  you  and  shake  your  hand,  and 
hear  of  your  travels.  I  have  a  country  cousin's  eager- 
ness for  that  great  relation  of  events.  Your  letter  from 
Gmiinden  was  pleasant  to  receive.     Morison  wrote  sub- 


282        LETTERS  OF  GEORGE  MEREDITH 

sequently  of  rain  assailing  you  at  Ischl,  which  I  had 
vowed  for  you,  but  not  desired.  I  have  been  nowhere 
during  your  absence  excepting  to  Pitfield,  and  to  Alder- 
shot  to  Brackenbury  home  from  the  Russians.  I  am 
consequently  dull,  unrubbed,  no  reflector.  I  write,  and 
not  perfectly  to  my  satisfaction. 

VVe  shall  have  a  couple  of  beds  here  at  the  end  of  the 
month,  if  there  is  a  chance  of  catching  you  and  your  wife 
— you  do  owe  it  to  us. 

Your  stay  on  the  Konigsee,  at  the  St.  Bartolomac 
little  inn  at  the  end  of  the  lake,  must  have  been  about 
the  pleasantest  time  of  your  excursion.  I  did  not  see 
the  lake  at  night,  and  I  was  with  captious  cockney 
comrades.  I  still  have  a  throb  to  be  up  the  Walzmann  ; 
I  propose  it,  and  much  of  that  region,  for  next  year— 
or  next.     I  have  not  been  away  for  six  ! 

I  hope  you  are  refreshed,  furious  for  the  pen.   .   .  . 

George  Meredith. 

To  John  Morley. 

Box  Hill,  Nov.  10,  1877. 

My  DEAR  Morley, — Let  me  hear  from  you  when  you 
are  stronger  :  not  that  I  wish  to  ring  my  bell  to  summon 
you  here,  but  that  bronchitis  rather  alarms  me.  I  have 
had  reason  to  dread  it — not  on  my  own  account,  for 
throat  and  chest  with  me  seem  inexpugnable. 

I  am  perplexed  by  Spottiswoode's  application  to  me 
to  lecture  at  the  Royal.  I  hate  it,  and  it  does  not  pay 
me,  it  makes  me  nervous,  and  I  have  to  give  up  my 
inner  mind's  work  to  it.  But  I  have  the  question  going 
on,  whether  I  ought  to  decline  anything,  I,  unlucky, 
portionless,  ill-paid  ! 

France,  from  a  knave,  fallen  to  a  fool ! 

But  no,  the  gain  has  been  precious  in  the  interval. 
She  has  gained  in  self-knowledge,  and  a  reasonable 
courage. 


LETTERS  OF  GEORGE  MEREDITH        283 

Judging  of  what  MacMahon  may  do  by  his  antecedents, 
I  am  incKned  to  think  that  the  man  who  could  hesitate 
about  his  paramount  manifest  duty  toward  the  country 
when  plain  sense  told  him  to  save  the  one  army  of  France 
for  the  defence  of  the  capital,  and  a  telegram  from  the 
Imperial  ministry  pushed  him  to  Metz,  while  the  enemy 
was  in  front  and  on  his  flank — this  Marshal  Donkey 
might  do  anything. 

The  situation  is  enough  to  make  us  all  anxious,  but 
the  temperance  of  the  French  gives  me  some  repose. 

De  Broglie  of  course  is  the  one  who  makes  us  feel 
blackest. — As  for  the  army,  it  would  split  for  civil  war. 
Very  probably  the  Republican  section  would  be  beaten  ; 
the  country  thrown  back  for  ten  years.  But  the  ten 
would  do  more  harm  to  the  cause  of  the  winners.  Honest 
rule  must  come  round  to  a  people  so  self-contained  and 
intelligent. — Ever  yours  warmly,    George  Meredith. 


To  John  Morley. 

Box  Hill,  Nov.  16,  1877. 

My  dear  Morley, — I  return  you  Harrison's  letter. 
'  Want  of  courage  '  is  no  doubt  often  the  visible  gap  in 
Celtic  character  ;  for  this  reason,  that  the  Celt,  if  not 
pushing  forward,  will  be  shrinking.  Movements  that 
are  impulse,  either  assail,  or  they  have  the  tendency  to 
contract  and  retreat.  The  French  are  Gallic  enough  to 
show  this.  Nevertheless,  I  see  a  harmonizing  and  solidi- 
fying of  the  logical  brain  with  the  mercurial  blood  in  them. 
As  to  Gambetta  and  his  trusting  to  phrases,  the  tempta- 
tion to  utter  them  to  an  interviewer  must  be  great, 
either  to  keep  conversation  going,  or  to  put  the  sym- 
pathetic guest  in  better  heart,  or  to  console  oneself  with 
a  trumpet  sound  in  touching  subjects  vexatious.  He 
must  be  judged  by  his  public  conduct,  which  is  good. — 


284        LETTERS  OF  GEORGE  MEREDITH 

Harrison  speaks  of  the  French  in  the  tone  of  one  who 
forgets  that  they  have  had  a  terrific  whipping.  And 
when  he  speaks  of  Mirabeau  and  Danton,  let  him  imagine 
those  two  after  the  Revolution,  opposed  to  a  military 
chief  more  than  probably  having  the  army  in  his  hand. 
— MacMahon  might  be  shot  by  a  Republican  battalion, 
but  the  shot  missing,  he  would  have  all  the  regiments. 
Conservatism  and  its  friend  Fear  are  strong  enough  to 
give  him  sway  for  a  time.  But  the  Republic  is  only 
a  withdrawing  tide.  Back  it  comes  ten  years  hence. 
In  a  third  of  the  time  it  might  be  established  by  an 
alternation  of  conciliation  and  firmness.  A  Big  Fool 
with  power,  we  must  treat  like  a  madman  on  a  housetop, 
and  affectionately  induce  him  to  destroy  himself  for  us. 
— ^I  cannot  clearly  see  what  Harrison  wants.  His  paper 
in  the  next  '  Fnightly  '  may  show.  His  '  Englishman  ' 
letters  were  currently  instructive. 

Yes,  I  wish  to  see  you,  and  have  a  mill-tide  of  talk 
on  varieties  ;  but  do  not  ask  me  ;  I  have  to  get  through 
a  wall  of  work  that  frowns  on  me  as  one  on  a  wrong 
track  at  present.  I  am  very  grateful  for  fair  Florence. — 
Yours  ever,  George  Meredith. 

Cause  me  to  be  remembered  in  your  household. 

As  to  the  sort  of  men  who  sat  with  Pym  and  Hampden, 
do  we  show  them  now  ?  If  not,  should  we  pose  them 
before  the  French  ?  All  countries  would  want  a  heavy 
shaking  to  bring  such  men  to  the  front. — I  have  been 
pleased  with  the  plain  writing  of  Froude's  A'Becket  in 
the  '  19th  Century.'  Your  Raynal  instructs  me.  I  am 
ashamed  to  say,  I  did  not  know  of  him.  Pattison  on 
*  Books  '  is  perfectly  correct.  As  with  India,  irrigation 
would  improve  his  produce. — Senior's  Thiers  is  a  lasting 
picture  to  me  of  the  Devil's  own  Infernal  Imp.  States- 
man, yea,  begotten  by  Machiavelli  of  the  Vivandiere  of 


LETTERS  OF  GEORGE  MEREDITH        285 

the  Regiment !  Had  I  time,  I  would  compose  a  La 
Bruyere  abstract  of  it, — Born  with  Satan's  blessing 
too  !  His  kettle-drum  taps  marched  France  to  Sedan. 
His,  more  than  Louis  Napoleon's.  The  Thiers-fed 
French  really  thought  at  the  sound  of  the  bugle  that 
another  chapter  of  the  Windy  History  was  to  be  written. 
Here  I  am  pulled  up  :  but  I  could  talk  with  you  over 
sheets. 


To  John  Morley. 

Box  Hill,  Nov.  24,  1877. 

My  dear  Morley, — The  day  before  your  enclosure  of 
Pattison's  article  on  you  arrived,  I  heard  of  it  and  was 
longing  to  see  it.     I  have  had  great  pleasure  in  reading 
it.     A  point   is  marked  of  what  one  would  have  pre- 
scribed for  one's  young  ambition — and  the  '  more  '  may 
not  be  more  worth  having.     Here  is  the  man  best  en- 
titled to  sit  as  judge,  and  he  hands  you  the  laurel-crown  ; 
— of  the  secondary  order  only  because  the  years  are  yet 
wanting  that  shall  make  you  ripe  for  the  first. — If  I  did 
not  feel  myself  happily  cut  off  from  aU  ambition,  I  could 
envy  you.     As  it  is,  I  see  you  housed  in  a  warm  resting- 
place  by  the  way,  and  I  go  on  over  frozen  ruts  whither 
we  shall  meet.     Is  that  a  stem  forewarning  to  you  ? 
No,  for  an  old  master's  praise  is  a  lasting  possession,  the 
best  of  promptings.     Nevertheless  (and  this  is  the  sum 
of  what  I  would  say)  the  '  last  infirmity  of  noble  minds ' 
is  an  infirmity,  but  susceptibility  to  the  purest  sources 
of  Fame  speaks  of  health.     See  the  emptiness  of  it,  take 
the  passing  benefit.     Neither  water  nor  wine  shall  give 
eternal  fife.     That  they  invigorate  for  the  hour  is  enough. 
— Here  is  a  sermon  to  one  who  needs  it  less  than  most 
men  :  proof  of  pragmatical  ineptitude  in  the  deliverer  ! — 
I  hope  you  are  really  better. — Your  Black  Christian  of 


286        LETTERS  OF  GEORGE  MEREDITH 

the  Bloody  Cross  appears  to  have  been  blest  by  GAWD  ^ 
recently.  If  I  had  time  I  should  like  to  write  his  hymn  : 
Te  Deum  :  with  chorus  of  '  all  the  historians/ — Yours 
most  warmly,  George  Meredith. 

To  John  Morley. 

Box  Hnx,  Nov.  28,  1877. 

My  dear  Morley, — When  Morison  sent  me  word  of 
poor  Bridger's  ambition  to  enter  into  the  Grocery  Hne 
in  Puttenham  village,  I  had  simultaneously  a  vision  of 
a  shivering  bare  little  shop  edging  its  way  by  rotation 
to  the  sparse  shower  of  nourishing  gold  on  that — as  to 
grocers — arctic  common.  I  supposed  Bridger  must 
know  best ;  as  I  generally  do  when  I  am  prophetic. — 
He  would  have  suited  me  had  I  built  stables  and  rooms 
over  them  ;  and  this  I  cannot  do  for  a  year — or  two, 
when  I  hope  to  prosper  better. 

In  this  valley  a  good  gardener  may  sometimes  com- 
mand a  place  ;  or  good  coachman. 

Can  he  be  strongly  recommended  in  either  capacity  ? 
He  has,  I  think,  a  wife  and  children  :  how  many  ?  How 
much  does  he  require  for  his  services  per  week  ? 

I  do  not  know  of  a  place  vacant ;  but  the  above  parti- 
culars should  be  known  to  me.  I  promise  not  to  forget  him. 

I  go  to  town  for  a  night  to-morrow,  and  shaU  call 
on  Morison.  He  writes  in  a  wildly  lamentable  tone  of 
France.  And  this  when  such  is  the  popular  feeling 
(including  the  military)  toward  the  Republic,  that  a 
conspiracy  to  ruin  it  could  not  succeed  beyond  five  years, 
and  would  displace  it  for  that  term  only  to  endear  it  by 
proving  its  value  to  the  country.  That  big  Dunderhead 
in  the  hands  of  the  shuffling  Duke  and  the  clerics  may  do 
harm  for  a  time.  But  he  has  not  got  much,  it  is  evident, 
by  sounding  the  army.     All  depends  on  the  Republicans 

1  Note  to  letter :  '  Or  "  Gord."  ' 


LETTERS  OF  GEORGE  MEREDITH        287 

making  no  false  move.  Patience  !  as  the  man  says  in 
Mauprat.  The  power  of  taking  an  injury  without  scoring 
blood  for  it,  will  be  of  wonderful  example  in  France. — 
Yours,  trusting  for  a  better  account  of  your  health, 

George  Meredith. 

I  salute  your  wife.     A  kiss  to  Florence.     A  punch  in 
the  ribs  to  Johnson. 

To  John  Morley. 

Box  HrLL,  First  ten  minutes  of  1878. 

My  dear  Morley, — I  tossed  off  a  letter  to  St.  B.  to  end 
the  year  '77.  I  greet  you  in  the  first  hour  of  the  New 
One,  after  a  look  at  the  stars  from  my  chalet  door,  and 
listening  to  the  bells.  We  have  just  marked  one  of  our 
full  stops,  at  which  Time,  turning  back  as  he  goes,  looks 
with  his  old-gentleman  smile.  To  come  from  a  gaze 
at  the  stars — Orion  and  shaking  Sirius  below  him — is 
to  catch  a  glance  at  the  inscrutable  face  of  him  that 
hurries  us  on,  as  on  a  wheel,  from  dust  to  dust. — I  thought 
of  you  and  how  it  might  be  with  you  this  year :  hoped 
for  good  :  saw  beyond  good  and  evil  to  great  stillness, 
another  form  of  moving  for  you  and  me.  It  seems  to 
me  that  Spirit  is, — how,  where,  and  by  what  means  in- 
volving us,  none  can  say.  But  in  this  life  there  is  no  life 
save  in  spirit.  The  rest  of  life,  and  we  may  know  it  in 
love, — is  an  aching  and  a  rotting. 

It  is  late.     I  have  been  writing  all  day.     With  all  my 
heart  I  wish  you  well. — And  am  ever  yours, 

George  Meredith. 

To  William  Hardman. 

Box  Hill,  March  15,  1878. 

My  Citizen  !  my  Farrier  !  soon  to  be  my  Common 
Serjeant ! — You  have  my  vote  and  interest.     I  am  out 


288         LETTERS  OF  GEORGE  IklEREDITH 

among  the  Aldermen  to  canvass  them.  Though  it  seems 
a  deplorable  halting  and  stooping  on  a  path  hitherto 
brilliant  as  it  has  been  adventurous,  that  you  should  wish 
to  be  a  Serjeant  at  all,  and  a  common  Serjeant  of  all 
things,  we  will  seek  to  gratify  your  good  wish,  queer  in 
appearance  only,  I  trust.  What  does  the  Great  Mother 
say  to  it  ?  Down  here  there  is  an  idea  that,  in  appre- 
hension of  war,  you  apply  for  the  post  to  prepare  the 
Court  of  Aldermen  to  face  the  foe  by  drilling.  But 
surely  this  is  a  new  development  ?  Only,  confound  it, 
you  are  always  blazing  in  new  places — as  though  the 
Great  Mother  had  been  dreaming  of  crackers  at  a  certain 
period. 

As  for  the  latest  Photographs — hum.  I  was  glad  of 
the  gift,  glad  to  see  the  face.  But  it 's  rather  steely  ; 
capital  for  a  Common  Serjeant,  whom  I  would  depute 
to  the  post  on  the  strength  of  it. 

Let  me  hear  if  you  are  in  for  a  big  dignity  ;  and  when 
you  have  a  berth  to  fling  to  a  dog,  remember  where  he 
lieth. 

The  Mg.  Post  has  fought  well  beside  the  '  Pall  Mall,' 
but  the  sentimental  or  party -ridden  English  have  spoiled 
the  hour. 

It  is  now  too  late  to  oust  the  Russians,  No  country 
like  ours  can  afford  to  fight  at  so  terrible  a  disadvantage 
as  they  offer  us.  We  must  wait  for  new  complications. 
Meanwhile  press  for  an  army.  Ultimately  it  will  come 
to  a  Conscription,  and  the  sooner  the  better.  The  volun- 
teering system  gives  us  men  no  match  for  countries  that 
bring  their  best  into  the  field,  and  in  overpowering  hosts. 

Adieu,  my  friend.  Give  my  love  to  Mrs.  Common 
Serjeant  and  the  young  ladies. 

I  do  hope  you  will  give  us  a  day  in  the  spring. 

G.  M. 


LETTERS  OF  GEORGE  MEREDITH  289 

To  Miss  Alice  Brandreth.^ 

Apnl  11,  1878. 
Now  dawns  all  waxen  to  your  seal  of  life, 
This  day  which  names  you  bride  to  make  you  wife, 
Time  shows  the  solid  stamp  :   then  see,  dear  maid, 
Round  those  joined  hands  our  prayers  for  you  inlaid. 

George  and  IMarie  M. 

To  B.  L.  Stevenson. 

Box  Hill,  Dorking,  June  4,  1878. 

My  dear  Stevenson, — I  had  not  time  to  write  to  you 
immediately  after  reading  the  book,^  but  my  impressions 
are  fresh.  My  wife  has  gained  possession  of  it  at  last, 
so  I  should  have  to  run  down  to  the  house  to  quote 
correctly.  She  fell  on  the  book,  I  snatched  it,  she  did 
the  same,  but  I  regaining  it,  cut  the  pages,  constituting  an 
act  of  ownership.  I  leave  this  to  her  invariably,  so  she 
was  impressed  and  abandoned  the  conflict.  I  have 
been  fully  pleased.  The  writing  is  of  the  rare  kind  which 
is  naturally  simple  yet  picked  and  choice.  It  is  literature. 
The  eye  on  land  and  people  embraces  both,  and  does 
not  take  them  up  in  bits.  I  have  returned  to  the  reading 
and  shall  again.  The  reflections  wisely  tickle,  they  are 
in  the  right  good  tone  of  philosophy  interwrought  with 
humour. 

My  protest  is  against  the  Preface  and  the  final  page. 
The  Preface  is  keenly  in  Osric's  vein — '  everj^^thing  you 
will,  dear  worthy  public,  but  we  are  exceeding  modest 
and  doubt  an  you  will  read  us,  though  exquisitely  silken- 
calved  we  are,  and  could  say  a  word  of  ourselves,  yet 
on  seeing  our  book,  were  we  amazed  at  our  littleness, 

^  On  her  marriage  with  Mr.  J.  E.  H.  Gordon. 
*  An  Inland  Voyage,  published  in  May  1878. 

VOL.  I. — T 


290        LETTERS  OF  GEORGE  MEREDITH 

indeed  and  truly,  my  lord  Public  !  '  As  for  the  closing 
page,  it  is  rank  recreancy,  '  Yes,  Mr.  Barlow,'  said 
Tommy,  '  I  have  travelled  abroad,  under  various  mishaps, 
to  learn  in  the  end  that  the  rarest  adventures  are  those 
one  does  not  go  forth  to  seek.'  '  My  very  words  to  him,' 
said  Mr.  Barlow  to  himself,  at  the  same  time  presenting 
Tommy  with  a  guinea  piece. — This  last  page  is  quite  out 
of  tone  with  the  spirit  of  the  book. 

I  remember  *  On  the  Oise,'  you  speak  of  the  river 
hurrying  on,  *  never  pausing  to  take  breath.'  This, 
and  a  touch  of  excess  in  dealing  with  the  reeds,  whom 
you  deprive  of  their  beauty  by  overinforming  them  with 
your  sensations,  I  feel  painfully  to  be  levelled  at  the 
Saxon  head.     It  is  in  the  style  of  Dickens. 

But  see  what  an  impression  I  have  of  you  when  these 
are  the  sole  blots  I  discover  by  my  lively  sensations  in 
the  perusal. 

Should  you  be  in  communication  with  Mr.  Henley, 
I  beg  you  will  convey  to  him  my  sense  of  the  honour  he 
does  me  by  giving  so  much  attention  to  my  work.  I, 
who  have  worked  for  many  years  not  supposing  that 
any  one  paid  much  heed  to  me,  find  it  extraordinary. 
His  praise  is  high  indeed,  but  happily  he  fetches  me  a 
good  lusty  clout  o'  the  head  now  and  again,  by  which  I 
am  surprisingly  well  braced  and  my  balance  is  restored. 
Otherwise  praise  like  that  might  operate  as  the  strong 
waters  do  upon  the  lonely  savage  unused  to  such  a 
rapture. 

You  should  see  the  foliage  of  our  valley.  Come  you 
to  London  on  your  way  to  the  Continent,  you  must  give 
us  a  visit.  Whither  do  you  go  ?  How  is  the  mood  for 
work  with  you  ?  In  August  I  believe  I  am  bound  for 
Dauphine,  where  a  French  brother-in-law  of  my  wife, 
a  militaire,  has  a  pied  a  terre  on  the  borders  of  Savoy. 
I  am  rather  more  in  the  mood  for  South  Tyrol,  but  the 


LETTERS  OF  GEORGE  MEREDITH         291 

invitation  attracts,  and  Dauphine  has  heights  enough. 
My  '  Egoist '  is  on  the  way  to  a  conclusion.  Of  pot- 
boilers let  none  speak.  Jove  hangs  them  upon  necks  that 
could  soar  above  his  heights  but  for  the  accursed  weight. 
Adieu.  I  trust  you  are  well.  Look  to  health.  Run 
to  no  excess  in  writing  or  in  anything.  I  hope  you  will 
feel  that  we  expect  much  of  you.  I  beg  you  to  remember 
me  to  your  father  and  mother. — Yours  very  faithfully, 

George  Meredith. 

To  G.  W.  Foote. 

Box  Hill,  Dorking,  August  19,  1878. 

Dear  Sir, — I  have  not  to  learn  from  your  letter  that 
you  do  me  the  honour  to  rank  my  works  of  some  worth, 
and  that  you  put  yourself  to  trouble  to  make  them  better 
known.  1  I  will  not  oflfer  you  my  thanks,  for  such  things 
are  past  the  sense  of  obligation.  To  feel  that  men  like 
you  and  '  B.  V.'  read  and  have  a  taste  for  what  I  produce, 
is  full  of  encouragement  to  me  to  write  on  with  good 
heart. — We  will  not  speak  of  our  public  which  is  a  funny 
public,  pardonable  for  its  humours,  and  wants  rough 
shaking  and  persistent  teaching  before  it  will  have  a 
zest  or  respect  for  Kterature  that  is  not  directed  to  adorn 
a  library  or  illustrate  a  drawing-room  table.  Peut-etre 
que  cela  lui  vient  d'un  manque  de  coeur.  At  any  rate, 
the  English  cure  one  early  of  a  desire  for  applause,  and 
as  well  as  I  could  do,  I  have  worked  without  thought  of 
that  and  the  profit  coming  of  it. — I  should  not  fancy  that 
cheap  editions  of  my  writings  would  sell.  Perhaps  they 
will  go  better  in  time,  but  I  cannot  voluntarily  advertise 
them  '  by  the  author  of  .  .  .' 

Now  let  me  add  what  is  of  more  importance  to  my 
mind  in  communicating  with  you  :    that  I  admire  the 

^  Mr.  Footo  had  written  complaining  of  what  ho  considered  gratuitous 
hindrances  to  the  circulation  of  Meredith's  works. 


292        LETTERS  OF  GEORGE  MEREDITH 

fight  you  are  making,  and  class  you  among  the  true 
soldiers  Heinrich  Heine  called  himself  for  doing  battle 
with  the  pen.  I  have  in  your  example  to  suppose  that 
ours  is  a  public  neglectful  of  brave  men  ;  a  worse  offence 
than  neglect  of  a  man  of  letters. 

As  to  my  poems,  I  have  lost  the  ardour  for  publishing 
them  ;  perhaps  in  a  year  or  two  they  may  appear  ;  I 
am  well  content  to  remain  unpublished  while  the  poems 
of  '  B.  V.'  are  withheld.  To  him  as  to  me,  the  conditions 
of  sale,  which  frown  on  collections  of  verse  not  offering 
themselves  as  appropriate  gift-books  for  the  innumerable 
nuptial  curate  and  his  bride,  are,  I  fear,  adverse.  Poetry 
in  England  is  required  to  have  a  function  of  a  practical 
kind,  and  to  exercise  it. 

I  trust  I  show  you  that  you  give  me  great  pleasure  in 
writing  to  me. — Most  faithfully  yours, 

George  Meredith. 

To  J .  Corny  ns  Carr. 

Box  Hill,  Oct.  9,  1878. 

My  dear  Carr, — Praise  of  yours  comes  from  the 
right  quarter.  There  is  no  man  whom  I  would  so 
strongly  wish  to  please  with  my  verse.  I  wish  I  had 
more  time  for  it,  but  my  Pactolus,  a  shrivelled  stream 
at  best,  will  not  flow  to  piping.  And  as  to  pubhshing 
books  of  verse,  I  have  paid  heavily  for  that  audacity 
twice  in  Pounds  sterling.  I  had  for  audience  the  bull, 
the  donkey,  and  the  barking  cur.  He  that  pays  to 
come  before  them  a  third  time — we  will  not  give  him 
his  name. 

This  hullaballoo  of  air  with  drenchers  to  vary  the 
monotony  of  row,  though  I  like  it  myself,  will  not  allow 
an  invitation  to  allure  you.  But  when  there  is  a 
cessation,  perhaps  you  and  Mrs.  Carr  will  do  us  the 
honour  to  come  and  see  the  Indian  summer  here.     A 


LETTERS  OF  GEORGE  MEREDITH         293 

dozen  differently-coloured  torches  you  will  find  held  up 
in  our  woods.  For  which,  however,  as  well  as  for  your 
sensitive  skin,  we  require  stillness  and  a  smiling  or  sober 
sky. 

I  heard  of  your  separation  from  Greenwood  by  Jovian 
editorial  stroke,  and  of  your  rap  back.  I  regret  the 
matter.  He  is  the  loser.  Let  us  meet  soon.  It  would 
do  me  good  to  hear  you  swear  an  oath  by  the  might 
and  majesty  of  Benedetto  never  again  to  let  a  month 
go  by  without  seeing  me,  whereas  we  begin  to  count  the 
year  going. 

Give  my  warm  salutations  to  'Mis.  Carr. — I  am,  yours 
friendhest,  George  Meredith. 


To  Admiral  Maxse. 

Box  Hill,  Oct.  14,  1878. 

My  dear  Adiniiral, — On  Tuesday,  as  you  are  weU 
aware,  I  am  bound  to  make  my  pilgrimage  to  town.  This 
afternoon  I  am  disengaged,  but  having  to  work  up  to 
half -past  three,  I  can't  mount  the  hill  on  the  faint  chance 
of  finding  you — I  should  be  late  in  my  return,  and  I  have 
work  at  night. 

Yet  I  want  very  much  to  see  you — apart  from  an 
ancient  foolishness  that  I  cherish  and  keep  young.  The 
Governor  ^  is  in  violent  wrath  with  a  Dr.  Oelker  who 
attacks  him  as  Governor  of  his  Island.  Instantly  his 
Excellency  despatches  me  all  the  papers  on  the  subject 
of  this  contention — Oelker's  pamphlet,  his  own  com- 
ments, Hamburg  journals.  And  it  appears  that  Oelker 
obtained  insertion  for  one  of  his  letters  in  the  '  Times.' 
But  I  have  not  seen  this  letter,  I  am  very  busy  finishing 
a  work.  I  am  not  controversial,  and  I  really  should  not 
know  how  to  proceed  with  prudence  if  I  were.     How 

*  Sir  Fitzhardinge  Maxse,  then  Governor  of  Heligoland. 


294        LETTERS  OF  GEORGE  MEREDITH 

put  the  Governor's  reply  into  shape  ?  And  would  it 
not  be  wiser  to  make  no  reply,  but  lie  by  for  the  next 
attack,  and  then  write  out  fairly  what  it  is  desired  should 
be  said.  Otherwise  a  second  hand  is  in  great  danger  by 
making  a  mess  of  it. — Try  to  call  here  on  Wednesday 
afternoon,  that  we  may  consult. 

I  have  been  nowhere  but  on  my  weekly  hack-cab-horse 
expeditions,  and  it  is  doubtful  that  I  shall  ever  go  any- 
where except  on  that  tramroad,  until  I  proceed  in  mute 
accompaniment  to  my  Last  March.  Life  under  these 
conditions  is  not  so  seductive  as  it  appeared  in  youth, 
though  in  youth  I  looked  out  under  a  hail  of  blows.  I 
don't  complain,  you  see,  of  inconsistency  in  my  career. 
If  I  could  quit  England,  hold  o£E  from  paper,  and  simply 
look  on  for  the  remainder  of  my  term — mountains  near 
— ^I  would  ask  for  no  better.  To  be  mixed  up  with  them 
is  hard,  these  English  are  so  astonishing  to  my  ideas  of 
dignity  and  valour.  Their  present  hugging  of  their  India, 
which  they  are  ruining  for  the  sake  of  giving  a  lucrative 
post  to  younger  sons  of  their  middle  class,  is  a  picture  for 
mankind.  They  and  the  Russians  are  matched.  But 
the  Russians  have  the  excuse  of  barbarian  politicians. 
Adieu. — Yours  warmly,  George  M. 


To  James  Cotter  M orison. 

Box  Hill. 

My  dear  St.  B., — It  was  like  you  to  think  of  me  when 
you  were  saying  Adieu  to  dear  old  Pitfield.  I  repeat  it, 
and  with  the  same  feelings. 

I  hope  to  propose  myself  to  you  for  a  night  in  January. 
At  present  I  have  the  Devil  behind  me  slave-driving. 
How  often  would  it  be  a  consolation  to  me  to  see  you  for 
an  hour  if  I  could  but  spare  time.  Ahasuerus  passing  the 
cheerfullest  of  Inns  has  about  the  same  kind  of  feeling. 


LETTERS  OF  GEORGE  MEREDITH        295 

The  other  day  Tom  Taylor  happened  to  be  writing  to 
me,  and  he  put  as  a  pendant,  that  he  had  been  reading 
Morison's  Gibbon  and  liked  it  very  greatly.  I  hope  you 
are  all  well.  I  give  a  thought  to  the  Westminster  Carp  ^ 
now  and  then  on  frosty  mornings  and  see  the  mortar- 
board blunting  its  angles  in  passengers'  eyes  on  the 
way  to  school  at  lightning  speed.  Give  my  love  to  the 
children  and  a  delicate  morsel — manipulated  by  yourself 
if  you  must — to  ]Mrs.  S.  Morley  I  trust  you  have  good 
news  of. — Your  loving  George  Meredith. 


To  Frederick  Greenwood. 

Box  HUiL,  Dorking,  Nov.  11,  1878. 

My  dear  Greenwood, — An  artist  who  has  been 
stricken  with  blindness  has  taken  to  his  pen  and  has 
published  2  vols,  called  '  Half  Hours  of  a  Blind  Man's 
Holiday,'  by  W.  W.  Fenn.  I  had  a  slight  acquaintance 
with  him  once,  and  he  writes  to  me  to  do  what  I  can  to 
get  his  book  noticed,  under  the  strange  supposition  that 
because  I  publish  works  of  fiction  I  have  interest  on  the 
Press.  He  does  not  beg  to  be  favourably  reviewed,  but 
early,  and  perhaps  with  a  bit  of  consideration  for  his  case, 
which  is  hard.  In  ordinary  circumstances  I  would  with- 
stand many  requests  of  the  kind  before  troubhng  j'ou. 
You  wiU  see  that  I  am  excused. 

I  go  strongly  with  you  in  your  work.  To  have  won 
Ld.  Shaftesbury  from  the  Holy  Faction  is  a  fine  piece  of 
work,  and  all  your  doing.  For  the  Rhodope  horrors 
required  to  be  struck  on  many  times,  and  no  one  else 
did  it.  I  never  see  you,  and  the  loss  is  greatly  mine. — 
Your  affectionate  George  Meredith. 

1  Mr.  Cotter  Morison's  son — now  Sir  Theodore  Morison,  K.C.I. E. — 
at  that  time  at  Westminster  School — an  ardent  fisherman. 


296        LETTERS  OF  GEORGE  MEREDITH 

To  James  Cotter  Moi'ison. 

Box  Hnx,  Dec.  26,  1878. 

Dearest  St.  B., — One  word  of  Adieu  to  you  before 
you  are  off,  and  my  wishes  for  sweet  wafting  airs  to  you, 
away  and  home, — I  have  recently  looked  at  Leslie 
Stephen's  '  Alps  in  Winter,'  and  the  refreshingness  of  it 
bids  me  ask  you  why  you  don't  go  to  see  Geneva  and 
a  valley  or  two,  and  home  round  by  the  Simplon  and  the 
Riviera,  taking  Burgundy  and  Langres  on  your  return  ? 

But  pleasure  perhaps  is  choicest  when  we  launch  upon 
{the  waters)  and  leave  the  route  to  them.  Let  me  hear 
from  you  when  you  are  at  Montague  Place  again.  After 
which  you  are  to  give  me  as  good  a  chronicle  of  this  as 
of  the  preceding  journey. — Your  loving 

George  Meredith. 

To  G.  W.  Foote. 

Box  Hill,  Dorking,  Dec.  31,  1878. 

Dear  Sir, — I  have  ordered  '  The  Liberal '  of  my  book- 
seller, and  shall  do  what  I  can  to  make  it  spread.  I  trust 
you  will  succeed  with  it.  I  am  naturally  doubtful,  con- 
sidering the  public  we  have,  but  of  many  failures  comes 
the  final  victory,  and  to  fail  is  neither  shameful  nor  dis- 
heartening if  our  hearts  are  firmly  set  upon  the  cause  we 
support.  If  by  chance  I  have  any  piece  of  writing,  or 
see  matter  to  write  of,  that  I  think  may  suit  your  maga- 
zine, I  will  forward  it.  At  present  I  have  little  leisure. 
But  I  shall  request  you  to  examine  rigidly  any  writing 
you  receive  from  me,  and  that  you  will  not  hesitate  to 
reject  it,  should  it  not  be  perfectly  to  your  taste.  I  am 
too  hard  on  myself  to  be  subject  to  sensitiveness,  and  I 
have  a  considerate  feeling  for  editors. — Yours  very  truly, 

George  Meredith. 


LETTERS  OF  GEORGE  MEREDITH        297 

To  Frederick  Greenwood. 

Box  Hill,  Dorking,  Dec.  31,  1878. 
My  dear  Greenwood, — I  wish  you  health  and  strength 
for  the  New  Year.  You  do  the  work  of  a  good  soldier  ; 
I  see  your  watchfulness  perpetually,  besides  the  big 
strokes  and  thwacks  ;  and  for  no  man  have  I  so  warm  a 
desire  to  see  him  sustained  to  keep  to  his  task,  as  for  you. 
Adieu.     Remember  me  to  Traill. — Yours, 

George  Meredith. 

To  R.  L.  Stevenson. 

Box  Hill,  Dorking,  Apnl  16,  1879. 

My  dear  Stevenson, — I  have  had  but  the  song  of  a 
frog  for  a  correspondent  since  your  letter  reached  me, 
and  my  note  is  Batrachian  still.  A  hint  of  suppressed 
Influenza  seems  to  have  been  the  cause  ;  my  customary 
specific  of  hard  exercise,  with  which  I  generally  sweat 
out  all  attacks,  has  this  time  failed.  I  do  nothing  but 
read,  and  that  flimsily. — We  have  all  been  grieved  to  hear 
of  your  illness.  Mariette  says,  '  II  a  mange  trop  de 
pickles  !  '  I  fear  it  may  be  from  overwork.  Take  my 
advice,  defer  ambition,  and  let  all  go  easy  with  you  imtil 
you  count  ioitY  : — then  lash  out  from  full  stores.  You 
are  sure  to  keep  imagination  fresh,  and  will  lose  nothmg 
by  not  goading  it. 

My  '  Egoist '  has  been  out  of  my  hands  for  a  couple  of 
months,  but  Kegan  Paul  does  not  wish  to  publish  it 
before  October.  I  don't  think  you  will  like  it :  I  doubt 
if  those  who  care  for  my  work  will  take  to  it  at  all.  And 
for  this  reason,  after  doing  my  best  with  it,  I  am  in  no 
hurry  to  see  it  appear.  It  is  a  Comedy,  with  only  half  of 
me  in  it,  unlikely  therefore  to  take  either  the  public  or 
my  friends.  This  is  true  truth,  but  I  warned  you  that 
I  am  cursed  with  a  croak, — I  am  about  one  quarter 


298         LETTERS  OF  GEORGE  MEREDITH 

through  '  The  Amazing  Marriage,'  which,  I  promise  you, 
you  shall  like  better. 

Paul  cannot  yet  let  me  have  a  copy  of  the  *  Donkey 
in  the  Cevennes,'  of  which  I  am  very  hopeful. 

We  fully  expect  you  and  look  for  you  to  come  to  us  in 
May.  Please  bring  good  weather.  Let  me  hear  that  you 
progress  and  can  put  one  leg  for^'ard.  Then  we  can  cal- 
culate that  the  other  will  follow,  and  we  will  count  the 
days  till  we  have  you.  Our  plans  are,  to  fill  the  cottage 
with  friends  during  May,  June,  and  part  of  July  ;  after 
which  we  go  to  Dauphine  for  some  weeks,  home  about 
the  end  of  September.  .  .  .  My  wife  condoles  with  you, 
greets  you,  and  will  be  glad  to  welcome  you,  of  this  from 
me  be  well  assured.  I  beg  you  to  present  my  compliments 
to  your  father  and  mother. — Yours  very  cordially, 

George  Meredith. 


To  James  Cotter  M orison. 

Box  Hill,  May  6,  1879. 

My  dear  St.  B., — Mariette  has  come  right  round  and 
is  rosy  again.  But  I  am  lank,  limp,  and  cavern-chapped  ; 
I  have  had  and  have  not  quite  thrown  off  an  attack  of 
what  is  called  catarrh  of  the  stomach,  owing  to  weakness 
in  that  region  from  a  prolonged  course  of  ^^Titing  at  night 
during  winter.  And  since  it  came  on  I  have  been  quite 
unable  to  write  a  line.  The  effect  is  a  sort  of  '  old  man's 
cough  '  :  You  cough  your  breath  out  and  labour  to  draw 
it  back  as  if  you  had  to  count  a  million  to  the  minute, 
and  was  rising  in  a  bucket  from  perdition's  deeps,  with 
every  prospect  of  going  down  with  a  run.  The  windpipe 
closes  ;  in  fact,  the  hangman  has  you  by  the  throat  each 
ten  or  twenty  minutes  ;  you  are  a  merry  Gallows'  bird. 
And  to  be  waked  up  at  night  by  a  seizure,  is  akin  to  the 
dark  archangel's  intimation  to  you  to  prepare  for  im- 


LETTERS  OF  GEORGE  MEREDITH       299 

mediate  flight.  Happily  there  was  no  inflammation  of 
the  trachea  accompanying  it. 

However,  I  am  getting  free  of  this  clutch.  My  wife  and 
Mariette  go  to  Eastbourne  next  week  ;  and  I  thinly,  if 
you  will  have  me,  I  will  offer  myself  for  a  couple  of  days. 
I  should  like  to  come.  I  think  it  would  be  Monday,  but 
I  will  write.  Let  me  hear  if  the  week  I  choose  is  one  to 
suit  you. 

I  saw  Browning  at  the  Grosvenor  Gallery  private  in- 
spection last  Wednesday,  and  mentioned  to  him  that  his 
Pheidippides  (the  run  to  Sparta)  had  been  proposed  by 
you  to  me,  and  by  me  shrunk  from.  I  have  not  yet  seen 
the  poem. 

Marriott  gave  me  a  good  accoimt  of  Morley  some  time 
back,  and  that,  as  I  never  see  him  now,  refreshed  me. — 
Adieu,  dear  St.  B. — Your  loving    George  Meredith. 


To  James  Cotter  31  orison. 

Box  Hill,  May  22,  1879. 

Dear  St.  B., — I  am  glad  that  the  strain  is  at  an  end 
with  Theodore. 

His  fishing-rod  was  despatched  yesterday  by  rail,  with 
a  label  addressed  to  him. 

But  the  Fatal  Breeks  have  not  arrived. 

Nor  will  they,  1  should  think. 

Adieu,  my  dear  friend.  I  hope  the  boy  will  have  a 
pleasant  holiday.  Here  all  my  people  are  absent.  The 
carpets  are  up  and  the  walls  are  peeled.  I  go  below  for 
a  dinner  and  hurriedly  return  from  a  place  that  looks 
as  if  gutted  par  les  Prussiens. — The  days  were  pleasant 
with  you,  as  always. — Your  loving 

George  Meredith. 


300        LETTERS  OF  GEORGE  MEREDITH 

To  Admiral  Maxse. 

Box  Hnx,  1879. 

My  dearest  Fred, — I  send  bag  to-day,  come  up  to- 
morrow. I  pass  Cubitt's  eternal  finger  at  3  p.m.  Meet 
me  there,  if  you  can.  My  way  will  be  up  by  the  avenue, 
his  drive. 

Will  is  improving,  but  prostrate,  and  likely  to  be  legless 
for  a  couple  of  weeks.  Boys  have  to  learn  in  this  way. 
If  they  will  not  take  good  advice  in  the  brain,  Nature 
thumps  them.  Happy  they  who  are  admonished  even 
then. — Your  loving  George  M. 

To  0.  W.  Foote. 

Box  Hill,  Dorking,  May  SO,  1879. 

Dear  Sir, — I  have  read  Mr.  Thomson's  article  on  my 
book,  with  the  singular  pleasure  we  feel  when  it  is  evident 
that  we  have  been  loved  of  old  date,  and  by  the  very 
worthiest,  and  that  nothing  but  love  can  have  that  way 
of  spea.king.  The  mental  stature  of  the  critic  is  the 
point ;  after  which  the  sincerity.  He  who  does  me  the 
honour  to  praise  me  in  this  instance,  is  to  be  valued  in 
both  respects.     I  wish  that  work  of  his  were  forthcoming. 

You  will  pardon  the  delay  in  my  reply  to  j^^ou.  I  have 
been  away  from  home,  rather  unwell,  as  I  grieve  to  hear 
it  is  the  case  with  Mr.  Thomson.  I  finished  a  3  vol.  work 
rapidly,  and  as  it  comes  mainly  from  the  head  and  has 
nothing  to  kindle  imagination,  I  thirsted  to  be  rid  of  it 
soon  after  conception,  and  it  became  a  struggle  in  which 
health  suffered,  and  my  unfailing  specific  of  hard  exercise 
was  long  in  resting  me.  I  look  to  the  Dauphine  Alps,  to 
which  I  go  in  July,  to  do  that  more  completely. 

Let  me  hope  that  '  The  Liberal  '  promises  to  flourish. 
I  have  it  monthly,  but  know  not  what  opinion  to  form 


LETTERS  OF  GEORGE  MEREDITH        301 

of  your  chances  of  success.  I  should  venture  to  say,  tliat 
a  strong  political  article  is  wanted  each  month — to  head 
the  flock  : — one  in  which  the  Philosophy  of  Radicalism 
would  cast  its  light  on  parties.  But  the  pen  to  show 
philosophy  in  controversial  Radicalism  is  rarely  to  be 
met. — I  am,  most  faithfully  yours, 

George  Meredith. 

To  John  Dennis. 

Box  Hill,  Dorking,  June  5,  1879. 

Dear  Dennis, — Be  assured  that  I  have  no  other  feeling 
than  thankfulness  to  one  who  can  take  notice  of  my  work 
without  seizing  me  by  the  coUar  to  shake  me,  and  then 
pitch  me  upon  Covent  Garden's  cabbage-leaves.  I  have 
found  it  rare  to  be  treated  otherwise  in  the  land  of  bulls 
and  bull-dogs.  But  you  spoke  in  the  tone  of  criticism, 
and  if  not  wholly,  I  could  partly  agree  with  you.  When 
I  think  of  what  I  say  of  others,  I  fully  accord  the  right 
of  the  world  to  have  its  reply  upon  me  :  and  all  that  I 
pretend  to  do  is  to  write  as  weU  as  I  can. — Faithfully 
yours,  George  Meredith. 

To  James  Cotter  Morison. 

Box  Hlll,  July  1,  1879. 

My  dear  St.  B., — I  discover  that  the  date  of  your 
dinner-party  falls  on  a  Tuesday.  Now — that  is  a  day 
when  I  am  quite  a  slave,  and  never  free  until  half-past 
eight.  So  I  cannot  come.  But  ask  me  for  some  day 
when  you  will  be  alone.  And  better  still,  after  your 
15th,  give  me  a  visit  here  and  take  a  draught  of  Box  Hill 
aqueous  atmosphere — for  dry  is  nowhere  to  be  had.  To 
me,  however,  the  days  and  nights  are  splendid  :  cloud- 
scenery  of  the  mightiest.     Tell  me  you  will  come. 

Have  not  the  papers  all  gone  ignoble  mad  over  Prince 


302        LETTERS  OF  GEORGE  MEREDITH 

Louis  Napoleon,  whom  they  insist  on  calling  the  Prince 
Imperial,  as  if  with  the  design  to  offend  the  French  ? 
On  this  occasion  the  '  Pall  Mall '  is  not  an  inch  above  the 
others.  The  Prince  was  a  legacy  of  blood  to  France. 
As  a  professional  Pretender  and  youth  of  good  courage, 
he  sought  distinction  :  and  consequently  he  pressed  to 
the  front : — and  if  he  had  come  home  without  brilliant 
distinction,  he  would  have  been  ridiculous  to  the  French 
for  having  done  nothing  to  repolish  the  name  of  a 
Sedanned  Bonaparte.  To  abuse  our  Generals  and 
officers  for  letting  him  see  service  is  foul  folly. — Ho  was 
evidently  a  little  intoxicated  with  his  first  command. — 
It  would  of  course  have  been  as  well  if  Lieut.  Carey  had 
turned  an  eye  to  look  after  him. — Here  is  a  strange  war, 
in  which  the  best  of  our  nation  are  heartily  with  the 
enemy  ! — I  am  not  perfectly  re-established,  anaemic, 
vacuous,  adust,  songless,  fountainless.  I  hope  it  is  better 
with  you.     My  love  to  all. — Your  affectionate 

George  Meredith. 

Comyns  Carr  is  a  capital  fellow  and  good  boon-fellow. 
The  other  man  you  mention  is  an  underbred  and  tiresome 
dolt. 


To  Jaines  Thomson. 

I  am  glad  to  be  in  personal  communication  with  you. 
The  pleasant  things  you  have  written  of  me  could  not 
be  other  than  agreeable  to  a  writer.  I  saw  that  you  had 
the  rare  deep  love  of  literature  ;  rare  at  all  times  and  in 
our  present  congestion  of  matter  almost  extinguished  ; 
which  led  you  to  recognize  any  effort  to  produce  the 
worthiest.  For  when  a  friend  unmasked  your  initials, 
I  was  flattered.     For  I  had  read  the  '  City  of  Dreadful 


LETTERS  OF  GEORGE  MEREDITH        303 

Night,'  and  to  be  praised  by  the  author  of  that  poem, 
would  strike  all  men  able  to  form  a  judgment  upon 
eminent  work,  as  a  distinction. 

In  July  1878  James  Thomson  was — through  Mr.  Foote's 
introduction — put  in  correspondence  with  Meredith,  whose 
work  he  had  long  held  in  high  esteem. 


To  James  Thomson. 

1879. 

The  Reviewers  are  not  likely  to  give  you  satisfaction. 
But  read  them,  nevertheless,  if  they  come  in  your  way. 
The  humour  of  a  situation  that  allots  the  pulpit  to  them, 
and  (for  having  presumed  to  make  an  appearance)  the 
part  of  Devil  to  you,  wiU  not  fail  of  consolation.  My 
inclination  is  to  believe  that  you  will  find  free-thoughted 
men  enough  to  support  you. 


To  R.  L.  Stevenson. 

GoLDRTLL  House,  Patterdale, 
Westmoeeland,  July  28,  1879. 

My  dear  Stevenson, — I  am  here  with  the  Editor  of 
the  '  Fortnightly,'  battling  with  rain  and  mists,  and  stifiE 
from  a  recent  stiffish  path  up  and  down  crags  of  a  sufficient 
slope  for  brooks  and  kids.  Now  and  then  we  have  a  spot 
of  sun.  He  would  smile,  but  he  must  cry,  and  he  has  got 
a  tragic  handkerchief,  and  with  horrid  iteration  of  stage 
action  he  resumes  it  when  we  are  expecting  him  to  give 
us  a  countenance.  There  is  a  nymph  whose  death  he 
caused  by  giving  too  much. — I  am  not  so  far  from  you, 
my  host  says.  It  is  his  intention  to  write  to  you  shortly 
apropos  of  work  in  his  imperial  contemplation.     I  have 


304        LETTERS  OF  GEORGE  MEREDITH 

ventured  to  assure  him  that  there  will  be  no  man  better 
for  it.  He  and  I  have  been  wonderfully  pleased  with 
the  Cevennes  excursion  and  the  Donkey.  I  prize  Modes- 
tine  above  the  cause.  The  night  in  the  Pine  Forest  is 
memorable.  I  should  have  written  of  it  in  the  fresh  burst 
of  my  satisfaction,  but  knew  not  where  to  aim  to  hit  you. 
— ^The  diplomatic  Kegan  has  dealt  me  a  stroke.  Without 
a  word  to  me,  he  sold  the  right  of  issue  of  the  *  Egoist ' 
to  the  *  Glasgow  Herald,'  and  allowed  them  to  be  guilty 
of  a  perversion  of  my  title.  I  wrote  to  him  in  my  in- 
credulous astonishment.  He  replied  to  me,  excusing 
himself  with  cool  incompetency.  He  will  have  to  learn 
(he  is  but  young  at  it)  that  these  things  may  be  done 
once — not  more. 

I  fancy  I  shall  leave  Morley  for  Box  [Hill]  on  Tuesday, 
hardly  later,  except  perchance  on  the  tempting  of  a  fine 
day.  Give  my  compliments  with  addition  of  warmth 
to  them  to  your  Mother  and  Father.  Henley  wrote  for 
my  Essay  on  Comedy.  I  have  directed  my  wife  to  post 
it  to  him. 

Adieu.  Keep  strong  work  in  view,  for  you  are  of 
the  few  who  can  accomplish  it.  Let  me  hear  of  you  when 
the  mood  is  on  you,  and  encourage  the  mood  to  come. — 
Your  friendliest  George  Meredith. 


To  William  Hardman. 

Box  Hill,  Nov.  5,  1879. 

My  dear  Sir  William, — If  you  care  to  have  a  copy 
of  my  latest  book,  will  you  tell  me  where  I  can  leave  it 
when  I  come  to  town  on  Tuesday  next.  I  am  so  busy  on 
the  one  day  of  my  enforced  visit  to  your  Metropolis, 
that  I  cannot,  as  often  I  wish,  turn  aside  to  St.  George's 
Road  from  Victoria  Station  ;    but  would  it  suit  you  to 


LETTERS  OF  GEORGE  MEREDITH        305 

send  to  Hill,  the  baker  of  bread  and  biscuits,  Albert 
Mansions,  Victoria  Street,  if  I  leave  the  volumes  there 
addressed  to  you  ?  I  have  this  time  fought  resolutely 
to  preserve  a  copy  for  you,  though  they  do  but  dole  out 
four  to  me.  Whether  you  will  like  it,  I  cannot  guess, 
as  the  whole  cast  of  it  is  against  the  modern  style  ;  and 
you  are  not  obliged  to  say  anything  about  it,  if  you  do 
not.  Give  my  love  to  the  5  jOciva  besieged  and  the  young 
ladies.     Accept  it  yourself. — Your  faithfullest 

George  Meredith. 


To  William  Hardman. 


Box  Hill,  Nov.  10,  1879. 


My  dear  Lord  William, — I  shall  not  say  that  the  Tory 
Government  is  worth  a  rap  until  I  hear  of  you  as  a  City 
Magistrate,  and  the  news  that  your  Queen  has  laid  her 
broadsword  so  smartly  upon  you  that  you  have  sprung 
up  a  knight.  I  wish  immensely  for  an  evening  with  you 
all.  The  state  of  the  case  is,  that  I  come  but  one  day  to 
town,  and  I  am  busy  at  home  with  fresh  work.  On 
Tuesday  I  am  at  liberty  till  8|  p.m.  when  I  am  at  London 
Bridge  Station  to  return  to  my  Hill.  I  could  not  put 
off  my  work  in  the  day  without  mulcting  myself  heavily, 
and  so,  just  for  the  present,  till  my  work  is  easier  in  my 
hand,  I  must  abstain  from  offering  myself  to  you.  This 
however  I  cannot  but  add  :  that  I  wish  greatly  to  see 
you  all.  But  will  you  not  think  of  coming  down  to  me 
some  day  ?  Tom  Taylor  was  here  yesterday,  with  family, 
and  they  found  our  Indian  summer  magnificent.  The 
woods  are  worth  seeing.  Even  in  the  winter,  as  you 
know  well,  we  can  fill  the  poet's  mind  with  cherishable 
matter.  I  come  to  town  to-morrow  from  Dorking 
10  A.M. — ^Arriving  at  Victoria  station  at  11  :  and  if  I  don't 

VOL.  1. — u 


306        LETTERS  OF  GEORGE  MEREDITH 

see  you  (I  could  wish  to,  but  I  know  how  hard-worked 
you  are),  I  will  march  over  to  Hill,  Baker,  and  deposit 
with  him  the  Three  Volumes,  addressed  to  you,  to  be 
called  for.     My  love  to  you  all. — Your  faithfullest 

George  Meredith. 


To  Admiral  Maxse. 

Box  Hill,  March  2,  1880. 

My  dear  Fred, — Though  we  are  not  running  together 
we  need  not  be  disunited.  I  follow  you  sometimes  in  the 
newspapers  and  think  of  you  often.  But  you,  on  account 
of  your  infidelities,  protest  to  be  the  warmer. — By  the 
way,  your  letters  on  the  Commune  greatly  pleased  me. 

I  am  very  unwell.  During  the  frost  I  was  able  to  work 
in  the  morning  and  evening.  When  the  soft  winds  came 
I  broke  down,  the  stomach  lost  all  power,  and  since  then 
I  have  worked  badly  and  waked  continually.  I  will  try 
and  call  on  you  to-morrow,  when  I  shall  be  in  town,  but 
doubt  my  abihty. 

I  will  try  to  get  the  poem  on  '  France  '  at  Chapman  and 
Hall's.  It  has  not  been  republished  and  is  in  the  Jany. 
number  of  the  Fortnightly  for  1871. — I  have  a  copy 
somewhere.  If  I  can  find  it  to-day  you  shall  have  it. — I 
shall  be  at  the  Garrick  at  7  o'clock  to-morrow,  and  if  you 
don't  see  me  between  12  and  1  p.m.  make  an  effort  for  the 
Garrick.  English  politics  appear  to  be  at  their  highest 
a  hurly-burly,  and  I  don't  wonder  that  French  should 
have  a  greater  hold  on  you.  The  Liberal  chiefs  here 
have  ruined  the  cause  for  20  years.  The  only  hope,  it 
seems  to  me,  is  that  Radicalism  should  be  avowed,  and 
the  sham  medium  done  away  with.  But  then  there 
would  be  no  prospects  of  Office  for  a  long  term  :  and  at 
least  the  prospect  is  desired.  This  country  is  Tory.  The 
party  against  it  is  a  fractional  party,  only  to  be  held 


LETTERS  OF  GEORGE  MEREDITH         307 

together  by  one  of  the  strong  causes  which  embrace  general 
interests.  The  work  done,  it  goes  to  pieces,  for  the 
reason  that  Liberal  and  Radical  sentiment  is  shared  by 
a  very  minor  portion.     There  is  no  soul  of  Liberalism. 

Hopeless,  I  suppose,  to  think  of  asking  you  to  come 
down  here  ? — Your  loving  George  Meredith. 


To  James  Thomson. 

Box  Hill,  Dorking,  April  27,  1880. 

Dear  Sir, — I  will  not  delay  any  longer  to  write  to  you 
on  the  subject  of  your  book,  though  I  am  not  yet  in  a 
condition  to  do  justice  either  to  the  critic  or  the  poet, 
for  owing  to  the  attack  I  suffered  under  last  year,  I  have 
been  pensioned  oS  all  work  of  any  worth  of  late  ;  and 
in  writing  to  you  about  this  admirable  and  priceless  book 
of  verse  I  have  wished  to  be  competent  to  express  my 
feeling  for  your  merit,  and  as  much  as  possible  the  praise 
of  such  rarely  equalled  good  work.  My  friends  could  tell 
you  that  I  am  a  critic  hard  to  please.  They  say  that 
irony  lurks  in  my  eulogy.  I  am  not  in  truth  frequently 
satisfied  by  verse.  Well,  I  have  gone  through  your 
volume,  and  partly  a  second  time,  and  I  have  not  found 
the  hne  I  would  propose  to  recast.  I  have  found  many 
pages  that  no  other  English  poet  could  have  written. 
Nowhere  is  the  verse  feeble,  nowhere  is  the  expression 
insufficient ;  the  majesty  of  the  line  has  always  its  full 
colouring,  and  marches  under  a  banner.  And  you  accom- 
plished this  effect  with  the  utmost  sobriety,  with  absolute 
self-mastery.  I  have  not  time  at  present  to  speak  of 
the  City  of  Melancolia.  There  is  a  massive  impressive- 
ness  in  it  that  goes  beyond  Diirer,  and  takes  it  into  upper 
regions  where  poetry  is  the  sublimation  of  the  mind  of 
man,  the  voice  of  our  highest.     What  might  have  been 


308        LETTERS  OP  GEORGE  MEREDITH 

Baid  contra  poet,  I  am  glad  that  you  should  have  fore- 
stalled and  answered  in  '  Philosophy  ' — very  wise  writing. 
I  am  in  love  with  the  dear  London  lass  who  helped  you 
to  the  '  Idyll  of  Cockaigne.'  You  give  a  zest  and  new 
attraction  to  Hampstead  Heath.  .  .  .  — ^Yours  very 
faithfully,  George  Meredith. 


To  Frederick  Greenwood. 

Box  Hill,  Dorking,  May  4,  1880. 

My  dear  Greenwood, — You  are  having  thousands  of 
letters  and  are  deep  in  business.  If  I  swell  the  list  with 
my  bit  of  sentiment,  I  can  make  it  short  because  I  am 
certain  that  you  know  me  true  to  you.  My  first  im- 
pression last  Saturday  evening  was  one  of  a  personal 
catastrophe.  I  have  walked  per  annum  about  450  miles 
for  my  Pall  Mall,  And  I  felt  that  it  was  a  startling  loss 
to  the  country.  Yours  was  the  one  English  paper  that 
could  boast  of  independent  views  and  competent  power 
of  expression.  On  Sunday  the  Tramps  came  down  for 
a  walk  to  Leith  Hill  (which  was  glorious,  and  the  feast 
ensuing  satisfactory)  and  they  were  sympathetic.  We 
said  [that]  Greenwood  thumped,  and  hard :  We  loved  him 
when  we  thought  him  right,  we  hated  when  we  thought 
him  wrong,  but  right  or  wrong,  the  fist  was  honest,  it  was 
a  giant's  and  it  was  English.  However,  Monday  brought 
the  better  news  that  you  soon  pilot  and  captain  another 
vessel.  The  Pall  Mall  did  not  make  you,  but  you  the 
P.M.  So  it  will  be  with  the  new  venture,  and  I  still 
believe  that  the  country  has  enough  of  the  right  metal 
in  it  to  back  your  new  conception  of  the  signification  of 
journalism.  I  could  proceed,  but  it  would  be  chattering. 
Certain  worthy  words  were  printed  by  the  old  Morning 
Post,  which  pleased  me.  Adieu,  I  am  always  with  you 
at  heart,  and  ever  yours,  George  Meredith. 


LETTERS  OF  GEORGE  MEREDITH         309 

To  R.  L.  Stevenson. 

Box  HiLii,  Dorking, 
England,  June  16,  1880. 

My  dear  Stevenson, — We  have  all  had  great  rejoicing 
over  news  coming  direct  from  you,  '  drawn  from  the 
Springs.'  Mariette,  Will,  my  wife  and  I  congratulate 
you  on  your  temerity.  We  all  want  to  know  when  it  is 
that  we  are  to  see  you.  Bear  that  in  mind,  and  let  us 
hear  of  you  when  you  turn  your  face  east  to  the  Island 
again.  We  had  rumours  of  you  :  first  from  Walter 
Pollock,  who  came  down  to  Leatherhead  to  lecture  on 
Dumas  the  Elder  :  then  from  Leslie  Stephen,  on  his 
visit  to  us  at  the  head  of  six  of  the  famous  corps  of  the 
Sunday  Tramps  :  but  these  rumours  were  vague,  though 
they  blew  note  of  a  Wife  and  had  thunder  in  them.  Let 
me  tell  you  that  our  household  roars  at  the  absence  of 
any  communication  from  her  lord  concerning  the  lady. 
Has  he  married  Enigma — to  tell  of  whom  is  split  the 
head  ?  Is  she  American? — Calif ornian  ? — Scottish  washed 
in  Pacific  brine  ? 

The  Sunday  Tramps  visiting  us  were  L.  S.  for  leader  or 
Pied  Piper,  Morison,  Fredk.  Pollock,  Groom  Robertson, 
Edgeworth  and  another.  Will  and  I  shouldered  a  sack 
of  cold  sausages,  'Polinaris  and  Hock,  and  met  them  at 
old  Dorking  Station.  Thence  away  to  Leith  Hill,  where, 
in  splendid  sunlight,  we  consumed  the  soul  of  the  sack, 
talked  spiritedly  (you  may  have  been  mentioned  among 
the  brilliant  subjects),  rolled  and  smoked.  Then  down 
the  piny  clefts  of  the  hill  by  Friday  Street  into  the  sloping 
meadows  each  side  the  Tillingbourne  leaping  through 
Evelyn's  Wooton,  along  under  Ranmore  to  our  cottage 
and  dinner.  To  this  day  the  wallv  has  a  bubbling  memory: 
L.  S.  in  a  recent  number  of  the  *  Pall  Mall '  has  described 
it  in  the  philosophic  manner. — By  the  way,  you  have 


310         LETTERS  OF  GEORGE  MEREDITH 

heard  that  Morley  has  the  '  Pall  Mall '  ?  Greenwood  is  ofi 
to  the  '  St.  James's  Gazette,'  after  a  snap  with  George 
Smith,  who  has  a  son-in-law  that  is  Gladstonite.  Hence 
Gladstone's  victory  at  the  elections  precipitated  the  fall 
of  Greenwood,  the  foe  of  Gladstone.  But  the  fall  of  very 
mighty  heroes  is  to  rise.  Greenwood  towers  in  his  new 
paper  :  the  poor  '  PaU  Mall '  drags  on  melancholily,  as  it 
were  with  bowels  out,  for  Greenwood  marched  the  whole  of 
the  '  Pall  Mall '  staff  away  to  his  drumming,  and  Morley 
has  to  be  abroad  recruiting. 

Last  year  I  was  down  with  Morley  at  Ullswater.  We 
taUved  of  you  and  he  wrote  to  you  in  your  hills  near  Edina, 
but  had  no  answer.  He  wanted  to  engage  you  to  do  some 
work  for  the  '  Fortnightly  ' — had  it  in  his  mind  to  propose 
Travels  in  the  Vosges  or  Harz,  I  think.  Leaving  West- 
moreland I  took  my  family  to  France,  where  it  was  dis- 
covered that  Will  had  Whooping  Cough  ;  an  illumination 
to  me,  for  in  the  Spring  I  had  been  seized  with  an  incom- 
prehensible attack,  Mariette  as  well,  all  the  symptoms 
the  same  as  Will's.  I  used  to  cough  at  night  until  the 
works  threatened  a  strike,  and  I  was  frightfully  over- 
thrown by  it.  I  was  partly  under  the  shadow  of  it  when 
you  last  saw  me.  I  left  my  family  in  Normandy  and 
crossed  Touraine  and  the  centre  of  Franco  to  Clermont- 
Ferrand,  by  rail  through  the  Chaulat,  a  bit  of  your 
Cevennes  country,  to  Nimes,  on  to  IMarseilles  and  Bor- 
dighera,  back  to  Dauphine.  After  a  couple  of  weeks  in  the 
Norman  homo  we  returned  to  our  cot.  Here  I  have 
been  working  ever  since.  The  children  are  well.  I  have 
an  idea  of  sending  Will  to  Westminster  School  for  the 
terra  after  Christmas.  I  fancy  I  have  more  to  say,  but 
there 's  no  space.  We  have  heard  on  all  sides  great 
praise  of  your  Cevennes  tour.  The  article  on  Thoreau  is 
good  reading. 

Let  me  hoar  from  you  again. 


LETTERS  OF  GEORGE  MEREDITH         311 

I  am,  with  my  heartiest  salute  to  Mrs.  Robert  Louis, 
your  faithful  George  Meredith. 

Both  dogs,  Islai  and  Jacobi,  in  sound  condition. 

To  Edmund  Gosse} 

Box  Hnx,  Dorking,  Dec.  4,  1880. 

Dear  Sir, — A  letter  such  as  you  have  done  me  the 
honour  to  send  me  is,  as  you  must  know  in  your  experi- 
ence, the  best  reward  and  encouragement  a  writer  can 
have. — I  am,  yours  very  faithfully,  George  Meredith. 

To  Sir  William  Hardman.^ 

Box  Hill,  Feb.  7,  1881. 

My  dear  Friend, — I  heard  of  your  loss  of  your  mother 
long  after  this  had  befallen  you.  Whatever  strikes  at 
your  breast  must  always  touch  mine,  and  I  need  not  tell 
you  of  my  sympathy.  But  that  can  hardly  be  called  a 
loss  in  which  the  reason  of  all  concerned  is  forced  to 
acquiesce  in  spite  of  grief.  I  thought  over  the  old  time, 
and  a  good  soul  gone,  a  right  pleasant  face,  and  your 
natural  regrets,  and  then  felt  that  it  had  come  to  you  in 
the  natural  order  of  things. 

This  is  to  tell  you  that  I  have  a  book  ^  for  you — not  to 
be  reviewed  :  only  to  be  read  at  your  entire  leisure. 
I  fear  you  will  not  care  for  it.  But  it  is  history,  and  a 
curious  chapter  of  human  nature. 

Often  I  meditate  writing  to  propose  myself  for  an 
evening.  I  iind  it  impossible  to  spare  the  time,  for  an 
unpopular  author  has  to  work  hard.     Some  day  I  shall 

*  In  acknowledgment  of  a  letter  expressing  appreciation  of  '  Plioebua 
with  Admetus.' 

*  Who  had  recently  become  Editor  of  the  Morning  Post. 

*  The  Tragic  Comediana. 


312        LETTERS  OF  GEORGE  MEREDITH 

hope  to  descend  on  you.  My  love  to  D'Troia  and  the 
young  ladies. 

The  book  shall  be  left  at  the  University  Club,  Suffolk 
Street. — Ever  your  affectionate       George  Meredith. 

To  James  Cotter  Morison. 

Box  Hill.  March  28,  1881. 
Dearest  St.  B., — Will  brings  me  word  that  Theodore 
gives  a  bad  report  of  you.  How  is  it  ?  Pray  let  me  hear 
from  some  member  of  the  monastery.  I  was  about  to 
send  you  a  vehement  denunciation  of  your  silence : 
St.  Bernardine  in  lofty  wrath  ;  but  if  you  are  ill,  I  retract, 
and  down  on  my  knees  for  your  recovery.  I,  by  dint  of 
exercise  upon  Rakoczy  water,  am  coming  round  to  some 
sanity  of  condition. — How  wonderfullj''  weU  Morley  is 
driving  the  '  Pall  Mall.'  We  may  say  too  good  for  that, 
but  he  is  a  priceless  editor.     On  the  other  hand  the 

*  St.  James's  Gazette  '  is  an  astonishing  collapse  of  ability. 
It  is  nothing  but  incessant  barking. 

•  The  day  is  going,  now  'tis  noon, 
Greenwood  'gins  bay  the  Gladstone  moon, 
While  temperate  Morley  with  assuaging  voice 
Bids  England  in  her  bigger  G.  rejoice.' 

I  have  not  seen  Morley  for  long. — It  is  very  good  of  you 
aU  to  let  us  have  Theodore  at  Easter.  We  will  take  our 
best  care  of  him.  Will  is  very  sensible  of  his  kindness 
at  Westminster.     My  boy  has  been  much  improved — 

*  manlified  ' — by  the  school  akeady,  likes  it,  is  growing 
proud  of  it,  and  may  in  a  modest  way  prove  a  credit  to 
it  before  he  leaves. 

Give  my  love  to  all  and  believe  me  ever  yours  at  heart, 

George  Meredith. 

The  dreadful  curse  of  Verse  is  on  me,  and  has  been  for 
two  months. 


LETTERS  OF  GEORGE  MEREDITH        313 

To  Arthur  Cecil  Blunt. ^ 

Box  Hill,  May  16,  1881. 

My  dear  Arthur, — My  wife  is  to  be  in  town  this  week, 
and  would  like  me  to  hint  to  you  in  roundabout  phrase 
that  the  present  of  (you  see  I  have  not  the  feminine 
genius)  tickets  for  four  to  some  place  of  entertainment 
would  give  her  not  only  personal  satisfaction  but  a  sort 
of  intimately  theatrical  air  to  flaunt  before  her  friends, 
two  of  whom  are  girls  from  the  country  who  think  actors 
are  demigods,  and  one  an  old  lady  who  laughs  for  an  hour 
at  a  casual  stage  grimace,  or  a  tale  of  a  tightness  of  breech, 
or  what  you  will  that 's  funny.  All  four  would  make  a 
splendid  quartette  of  claqueurs  for  any  new  piece  you 
may  know  of,  whether  in  or  out  of  it. 

So  far  I  have  done  my  duty,  and  I  think  delicately 
and  elegantly.  They  are  people  who  pay  to  witness 
our  stage  entertainments,  so  it  will  not  astonish  you  that 
some  people  should  rank  it  a  favour  to  be  allowed  to  see 
them  for  nothing.  I  have  advised  my  wife  to  go  and 
see  (it  was  once  my  doom  while  waiting  for  Chaumont) 
your  great  Mr.  Collette  in  '  Bounce,'  your  great  modern 
Play.  I  fancy  the  spectacle  might  work  a  cure  for 
curiosity. 

On  Sunday  next  the  Tramps,  headed  by  Leslie  Stephen, 
dine  with  me  after  a  walk  to  Leith  Hill.  Sunday  after 
there  will  be  room,  and  this  is  the  jolly  bachelor  hour  of 
the  year,  remember. — Yours  ever,  George  Meredith. 

To  Artliur  Cecil  Blunt. 

Box  Hill,  May  17,  1881. 

My  dear  Arthur, — I  am  asked  by  my  wife  whether 
I  gave  you  her  address  in  town.     I  reply  that  I  think 

^  The  Arthur  Cecil  of  the  playhouse. 


314         LETTERS  OF  GEORGE  MEREDITH 

not,  having  merely  fulfilled  a  formality,  which  you  could 
treat  as  such,  and  so  an  end  to  the  matter.  But  women 
have  not  this  fine  philosophy,  and  the  great  exemplar  of 
the  sex  to  me  keeps  repeating  : 

'  Footman ' ; 
and  again 

*  Mrs.  Footman  ' ; 

which  seems  like  a  contradiction  in  terms — a  violent 
collision  and  impossible  conjunction  of  the  sexes  ;  besides 
imputing  I  know  not  what  to  the  man  of  calves  : — 

'  Footman  '  (says  she), 
46  Torrington  Square.' 

There  was  a  fair  Footman  of  Torrington  Square 
Desired  to  a  Theatre  Royal  to  repair, 
With  her  nieces  three,  purple  as  Scotia's  thistle, 
And  enjoy  the  rich  humours  of  great  Mr.  Cecil, 
Who  of  the  Comic  Muse  questionless  mate  is, 
And  this  they  were  anxious  for  perfectly  gratis. 

With  which,  dear  Arthur,  vive  atque  vale. — Yours, 

George  Meredith. 

To  Arthur  0.  Meredith. 

Box  Hill,  Dorking,  June  19,  1881. 

My  dear  Arthur, — I  have  been  struck  to  the  heart  by 
hearing  ill  news  of  your  health  from  Lionel  Robinson. 
He  was  here  yesterday,  and  told  me  of  your  having  had 
to  consult  a  physician  in  London  about  spitting  of  blood. 
Let  me  know  of  your  present  condition  immediately, 
and  of  how  you  feel  affected,  and  what  you  think  to  be 
the  cause  of  it.  The  account  of  the  nature  of  your  work 
makes  me  fully  commend  the  wisdom  of  your  decision 
to  quit  it  and  Lille.     It  would  severely  tax  the  strongest. 


LETTERS  OF  GEORGE  MEREDITH         315 

You  should  have  rest  for  a  year.     The  first  thing  to 
consider  is  the  restoration  of  your  physical  soundness, 
and  rest  in  the  right  sort  of  atmosphere  for  you  might 
do  much  in  a  few  months  : — either  on  our  South  Coast, 
or  Devon  ;  or  if  advisable  at  Davos-platz  in  the  Grisons, 
where  friends  of  mine  of  weak  lungs  have  been  with 
profit.     Your  pride,  I  hope,  will  not  be  oftended  if  I  offer 
to  eke  out  your  income  during  the  term  of  your  necessary 
relapse.     You   have   laboured   valiantly   and   won   our 
respect,  and  you  may  well  consent  to  rest  for  awhile, 
when  that  is  the  best  guarantee  for  3'our  taking  up  the 
fight  again.    But  come  to  us  in  September  :  I  fancy  your 
term  at  Lille  is  then  over,  and  we  shall  all  be  overjoyed 
to  welcome  you.    Your  sister  Mariette  is  a  good,  humane, 
intelHgent  girl,  an  excellent  musician  already,  for  her 
age  ;    and  Will,  though  not  brilliant,  is  a  kindly  fellow, 
with  wits  of  a  slow  sort.     He  is  at  Westminster  School, 
and  friends  of  mine  in  town  do  me  the  favour  to  invite 
him  to  their  houses  instead  of  his  father,  so  he  sees  a 
little  of  Society,  and  has  manners  above  the  schoolboys. 
You  will  take  to  them  both.      They  will   look  forward 
to  a  glad  time  if  you  say  you  are  coming.     Our  cottage 
can  now  supply  a  bedi'oom,  and  this  is  at  your  disposal 
for  as  long  as  you  please.     When  I  was  informed  of  your 
wishing  to  throw  up  your  situation  at  Lille  that  you  might 
embrace   the  profession   of  Literature,   I  was  alarmed. 
My  own  mischance  in  that  walk  I  thought  a  sufficient 
warning.     But  if  you  come  to  me  I  will  work  with  you 
in  my  chalet  (you  will  find  it  a  very  quiet  and  pretty 
study),  and  we  will  occupy  your  leisure  to  some  good 
purpose.     I  am  allowed  the  reputation  of  a  tolerable 
guide  in  writing  and  style,  and  I  can  certainly  help  you 
to  produce  clear  English.     You  shall  share  the  chalet 
with  me.     Here  you  will  be  saving  instead  of  wasting 


316        LETTERS  OF  GEORGE  MEREDITH 

money,  at  all  events.  It  wiU  in  no  way  be  time  lost. 
After  all,  with  some  ability,  and  a  small  independence 
just  to  keep  away  the  wolf,  and  a  not  devouring  ambition, 
Literature  is  the  craft  one  may  most  honourably  love. 
I  do  not  say  to  you,  try  it.  I  should  say  the  reverse  to 
anyone.  But  assuming  you  to  be  under  the  obligation 
to  rest,  you  might  place  yourself  in  my  hands  here  with 
advantage  ;  and  leading  a  quiet  life  in  good  air,  you  would 
soon,  I  trust,  feel  strength  return  and  discern  the  bent 
of  your  powers.  Anything  is  preferable  to  that  perilous 
alternation  of  cold  market  and  hot  cafe  at  Lille.  I  had 
no  idea  of  what  you  were  undergoing,  or  I  would  have 
written  to  you  before.  No  one  better  than  I  from  hard 
privation  knows  the  value  of  money.  But  health  should 
not  be  sacrificed  to  it.  I  long  greatly  to  see  you.  I 
would  at  once  run  over  to  Lille,  if  I  could  spare  the  time. 
Write  to  me,  and  specially  of  your  health,  on  the  day 
you  receive  this — a  dozen  lines,  in  the  case  of  a  press  of 
business.  You  may  rely  on  my  wife's  cordial  anxiety 
to  see  you  well  and  receive  you  here, — I  shall  be  troubled 
until  I  hear  from  you. — Believe  me,  ever  at  heart,  your 
affectionate  father,  George  Meredith. 

To  Arthur  G.  Meredith. 

Box  Hill,  Dorking,  June  23,  1881. 
My  dear  Arthur, — Mariette  brought  your  letter  up  to 
my  chalet  at  noon  to-day  ;  '  A  letter  from  Arthur, 
Papa.'  She  knew  I  was  anxious  to  hear  from  you. — 
On  the  whole  the  news  rather  relieved  me,  but  that  I 
am  uncertain  whether,  with  the  cessation  of  the  haemor- 
rhage, the  blood-spitting  has  quite  discontinued.  If  it 
has,  one  is  allowed  to  suppose  that  the  evil  was  done 
during  the  last  severe  winter,  under  trying  conditions, 


LETTERS  OF  GEORGE  MEREDITH         317 

on  a  depressed  system.  I  could  raise  a  cry  of  thank- 
fulness to  that  strange  divinity  of  Accident,  Providence, 
at  your  release  from  those  conditions  in  good  time — as 
I  trust  it  is.  I  shall  be  glad  when  you  quit  Lille.  Your 
scheme  of  taking  to  mountain  air  is  wise,  I  think  ;  but 
watch  yourself,  and  should  it  act  unfavourably — as  I 
do  not  fancy  it  will — the  warmest  sea-side  air  you  can 
get  in  Europe — ^Malaga — will  be  best  for  you.  If,  on 
the  other  hand,  the  mountain  suits  you  and  you  are  bene- 
fited by  the  sharp  purity  of  it,  one  would  say  that 
Davos-platz  in  winter  would  be  preferable  to  the  Riviera, 
where  treacherous  winds  are  at  work  to  undo  the  re- 
storative sunlight.  At  Davos-platz  you  would  find 
Louis  Stevenson,  a  friend  of  mine,  a  promising  young 
writer,  but  latterly  struck  with  weakness  of  chest.  I 
am  told  he  intends  to  pass  a  second  winter  there.  Some 
invalids  are  splendidly  invigorated  by  its  tonic  atmo- 
sphere ;  and  if  this  can  be  enjoyed,  where  the  malady 
has  not  distinctly  set  in,  a  rapid  cure  ensues.  Your  letter 
bids  me  hope,  and  perhaps  it  may  be,  as  it  seems,  that 
when  you  have  thorough  rest  and  change  of  scene,  sweet 
air  and  appetite,  you  will  make  new  blood,  and  therewith 
remake  your  frame.  My  thoughts  wiU  follow  you  still 
anxiously.  It  is  a  hohday  to  me  to  think  of  you  soon 
having  liberty. 

You  speak  of  jour  income ;  I  am  glad  it  is  so  much  more 
than  Poco  told  me  it  was.  I  feared  you  would  hardly 
have  enough,  and  dreaded  your  being  forced  to  go  into 
harness  again,  without  requisite  strength.  Poco  says 
you  understand  the  management  of  your  money,  and 
that  ]Mr.  Mill  Williams  invests  it  for  you.  I  should 
imagine  him  to  be  an  excellent  adviser.  In  these  days  I 
do  not  like  Banks.  The  American  Government  Consols 
please  me  beyond  most  investments. — I  am  to  inherit 


318        LETTERS  OF  GEORGE  MEREDITH 

something  from  a  relative,  who  is  an  old  lady  of  80  and 
more,  and  an  imbecile,  but  extremely  tenacious  of  her 
crazy  hold  of  life  ;  so  that  I  see  no  holiday  before  me, 
and  there  are  chances  of  my  being  outlasted.  Whether 
I  inherit  or  not  the  money  goes  to  my  children,  so  you 
will  have  your  share. — ^My  health  is  now  far  from  good. 
I  finished  the  last  volumes  of  a  novel  two  years  back  by 
writing  at  night  for  three  months.  An  attack  of  whooping 
cough  followed  on  the  lowered  nerves.  I  have  never 
been  well  since  then.  My  digestion  is  entirely  deranged, 
and  still  I  have  to  write — and  for  a  public  that  does  not 
care  for  my  work.  These  were  the  thoughts  that  used 
to  give  me  such  alarm  at  your  craving  to  wield  the  pen. 
As  for  me,  I  have  failed,  and  I  find  little  to  make  the  end 
undesirable.  While  I  can  be  of  service  to  my  children, 
I  would  stay,  but  no  longer.  There  is  nothing  saddening 
about  death  to  a  man  of  my  age.  But  the  thought  of  a 
child  of  mine  having  the  prospect  of  life  extinguished 
in  his  youth,  is  a  cruel  anguish.  Hitherto  my  lungs  have 
worked  soundly. — Nothing  but  the  stomach  has  ever 
been  weak.  Unhappily  this  is  a  form  of  weakness  that 
incessant  literary  composition  does  not  agree  with. 

As  to  meeting  you  on  the  Continent,  I  wish  I  could 
give  myself  the  anticipation  of  doing  so.  It  would 
brighten  me,  I  cannot  say  yes,  but  will  not  yet  say 
decisively  no,  for  it  may  happen  that  I  shall  be  able  to 
come.  In  that  case,  I  suppose  the  place  of  meeting 
would  bo  Strasburg  or  Basle.  You  may  be  sure  I  would 
not  walk  you  overmuch.  However,  for  two  or  three 
weeks  I  will  not  speak  of  it.  Give  me  early  the  exact 
date  of  your  leaving  Lille, 

It  pleases  me  to  hear  that  you  will  be  with  Janet, ^ 

'  Mrs.  Ross,  who,  on  leaving  Egypt  with  her  husband,  had  settled 
on  the  outskirts  of  Florence. 


LETTERS  OF  GEORGE  MEREDITH       319 

probably  at  the  time  of  vintage  in  Italy,  of  which  she  is 
enthusiastic.  Our  dear  friend  Tom  Taylor  was  there 
with  her  one  Autumn.  We  have  lost  him.  I  felt  the 
loss  keenly.  You  may  not  have  seen  a  sonnet  ^  I  wrote 
on  him  in  the  '  Cornhill  Magazine.'  Sometimes  it  used 
to  strike  me  that  writings  of  mine  might  fall  under  your 
eye.  Have  you  any  taste  for  verse  or  light  literature  ? 
There  is  no  harm  if  not,  except  that  it  helps  to  freshness 
of  style  and  elegance  in  graver  writings. 

We  have  been  long  estranged,  my  dear  boy,  and  I 
awake  from  it  with  a  shock  that  wrings  me.  The  elder 
should  be  the  first  to  break  through  such  divisions,  for 
he  knows  best  the  tenure  and  the  nature  of  life.  But  our 
last  parting  gave  me  the  idea  that  you  did  not  care  for 
me  ;  and  further,  I  am  so  driven  by  work  that  I  do 
not  contend  with  misapprehension  of  me,  or  with  dis- 
regard, but  have  the  habit  of  taking  it  from  all  alike,  as 
a  cab -horse  takes  the  whip.  Part  of  me  has  become 
torpid.  The  quality  of  my  work  does  not  degenerate  ; 
I  can  say  no  more.  Only  in  my  branch  of  the  profession 
of  letters  the  better  the  work  the  worse  the  pay,  and 
also,  it  seems,  the  lower  the  esteem  in  which  one  is  held 
for  it. 

I  shall  hope  to  hear  from  you  soon.  Writing  bent 
over  a  desk  cannot  be  good  for  you,  therefore  do  not 
write  me  long  letters.  A  few  lines  of  your  state  of  health 
will  be  enough. 

We  should  all  have  had  delight  in  welcoming  you 
home,  but  your  project  is  in  every  way  advisable.  Try 
to  come  to  us  next  year  in  May  or  in  June,  for  the 
Summer. — By  the  way,  when  travelling,  or  anyr^^herc  in 
towns,  and  where  you  do  not  know  the  weUs,  avoid  the 
drinking  water.     In  France  I  take  Eau  de  St.  Galmier 

»  '  To  a  Friend  Lost.' 


320        LETTERS  OF  GEORGE  MEREDITH 

and  in  Germany  the  Seltzers  : — water  of  mineral  springs. 
The  ordinary  water  is  corrupt — and  here  as  well.  Typhoid 
is  a  common  disease  in  consequence.  Wherever  you 
settle  see  that  your  drinking  water  has  been  boiled. 

I  will  write  again  next  week. — It  will  be  a  grief  to  me 
if  I  cannot  meet  you.  I  am  in  a  dijQ&culty  with  the  work 
I  am  doing  just  now  and  behindhand  with  it,  or  I  would 
not  hesitate. — ^Your  loving  father,  George  Meredith. 

Mariette's  kisses  are  blown  to  you,  and  my  wife  bids 
me  remember  her  to  you  affectionately.  AU  of  us  will 
be  rejoiced  by  any  good  tidings  of  you. 


To  Admiral  Maxse. 

Box  Hill,  Dorking,  July  1881. 

My  dear  Fred, — I  did  not  go  to  salute  the  illustrious 
of  this  people.  Morley  went,  was  introduced,  found  the 
P.  affable,  cordial,  simple,  etc.,  and  the  Crown  P.  of  G. 
a  model  of  manliness.  He  says  the  entertainment  was 
pleasant — good  music.  It  would  have  required  the 
young-eyed  cherubim  in  full  choric  response  to  attract 
me  to  London. 

I  wish,  however,  that  I  had  chit-chat  to  enliven  your 
Vichy  dulness.  I  sent  you  a  '  Daily  News  '  containing  the 
correspondence  from  Merv  of  the  enterprising  Donovan, 
under  the  supposition  that  you  don't  have  the  paper 
sent  to  you  regularly  in  France. — While  you  are  at 
Vichy  read  Mdme.  de  Sevigne's  Letters  in  relation  to 
the  place.  They  are  interesting,  as  indeed  she  always 
is.  Also  a  book  by  Emile  Montegut  contains  an  account 
of  Vichy  that  may  point  out  unobserved  things  to  be 
admired.  I  read  it  in  the  '  R.  des  deux  Mondes.'  It  is 
one  of  a  collection  of  articles  on  notable  French  spots. — / 


/' 


LETTERS  OF  GEORGE  MEREDITH         321 

I  hope  you  have  had  good  news  of  Ivor.  Will  rowed 
(at  short  warning)  in  the  Westminster  Eight  against  the 
Leander  Club  the  other  da}',  and  writes  that  the  training 
and  exercise  have  made  him  feel  rather  giant-hke,  I  have 
good  news  of  my  boy  Arthur.  He  starts  for  Strasburg 
on  the  1st  August,  and  after  a  visit  there  he  mounts  the 
Swiss  or  Tyrolese  heights.  He  begs  me  to  join  him,  but 
this  I  fear  won't  be  possible,  or  any  holiday.  I  have  two 
Novels  in  hand,  and  of  one  there  is  a  prospect  for  the 
Cornhill.  Perhaps  it  will  be  the  duller  for  my  dulness, 
but  I  can't  help  that.  I  have  been  writing  much  verse. — 
As  to  health,  not  vastly  improved.  The  sameness  of  our 
animal  life  here  would  counteract  the  sweet  specifics. 
Present  my  respects  and  remembrances  to  your  i\Iother, 
and  write  to  me  again.  By  the  way,  Bradlaugh  threatens 
to  be  foolish.  The  House  is  wrong,  but  this  will  make 
two  false  steps  on  his  part,  and  the  unit  against  the 
aggregate  cannot  afford  one.  The  folly  is  to  take  strong 
measures  upon  no  popular  sentiment  to  back  him. — 
Yours  warmly,  George  Meredith. 


To  Arthur  G.  Meredith . 

Box  Hill,  Doeking,  Juhj  27,  1881. 

My  dear  Arthur, — I  have  gone  through  the  abstract 
of  your  essay  with  an  awakened  interest.  It  is  deeply 
thought,  ingenious  (in  the  best  sense),  and  sets  me  looking 
for  a  complete  work.  With  most  of  the  statements  I 
can  agree.  I  myself  am,  as  a  describer  of  nature  and 
natural  emotions,  a  constant  sufferer  in  dealing  with 
a  language  part  of  which  is  dead  matter. — You  will  do 
good  service  in  directing  attention  to  the  point,  though 
I  do  not  see  how  our  English  is  to  be  vitalized  throughout. 

VOL.  I. — X 


822         LETTERS  OF  GEORGE  MEREDITH 

— 1  fancy  still  that  you  are  in  danger  of  overlooking  the 
large  admixture  of  Celtic  blood  in  the  English  race. 
Irish  and  Cambrian  have  a  portion  of  them  under  that 
banner. — But  this  does  not  affect  your  argument,  but 
strengthens  it  if  you  succeed  in  showing  to  satisfaction 
that  the  English  manifest  themselves  Teutonly.  As  far 
as  I  observe  them,  the  heart  of  the  nation  is  Teuton 
and  moral,  and  therewith  intellectually  obtuse,  next  to 
speechless.  It  has,  however,  a  shifty  element,  and  a 
poetic  :  and  this  tells  again  for  you,  that  the  poetic, 
seeming  to  come  from  our  Celtic  blood,  flies  at  once  to 
the  well-springs  of  the  tongue  whenever  it  is  in  need  of 
vital  imagery. — I  wish  I  had  time  to  discuss  it.  I  am 
hard  driven. 

Whether  I  can  come  to  you  hangs  doubtful.  I  am 
half  bound  to  work  for  the  '  Cornhill '  ;  and  as  I  am  un- 
popular I  am  ill-paid,  and  therefore  bound  to  work 
double  tides,  hardly  ever  able  to  lay  do\\-n  the  pen. 
This  affects  my  weakened  stomach,  and  so  the  round  of 
the  vicious  circle  is  looped.  I  will  come — be  sure,  if  I 
find  it  prudently  possible.  The  course  I  should  like 
would  be  to  Munich,  Innsbruck,  over  the  Brenner  to  one 
of  the  heights  in  view  of  the  Dolomites  and  thence  around. 
At  Primiero  or  San  Martino  excellent  quarters  may  be 
had,  and  I  long  for  Italian  colour  with  mountain  air. 
Yet  I  could  not  enjoy  it  under  pressure  of  work  to  finish 
or  a  holiday  stolen  ;  I  have  lost  my  old  buoyancy. — Keep 
me  informed  of  your  whereabouts  and  your  route.  Pray 
do  not  tax  your  strength  or  expose  yourself  to  night  air 
in  travelling,  if  avoidable.  In  a  couple  of  months  pre- 
cautions may  not  be  so  necessary. — Here  at  home  I  am 
urged  to  join  you,  and  it  is  no  fault  of  the  family  that  I 
am  not  off  at  once.  The  time  for  starting  would  be 
toward  the  latter  end  of  August  20-25th.     But  to  preclude 


LETTERS  OF  GEORGE  MEREDITH         323 

disappointment,  rather  think  that  you  will  not  see  me 
than  that  vou  will. 

What  do  you  say  to  sitting  down  in  the  winter  on  the 
Riviera  to  write  a  brief  sketch  of  your  essaj'^  in  a  couple 
of  papers  for  the  '  Fortnightly  Review  '  ?  I  can  guarantee 
that  I\Ir.  Morley  would  give  due  attention  to  any  work 
from  a  son  of  mine,  and  in  the  '  Fortnightly  '  it  would  have 
the  choicest  circle  of  readers.  Subsequently,  you  could 
enlarge  it  for  publication  in  a  volume. — I  believe  that  at 
Mentone  a  Dr.  George  Macdonald  ^  lives,  a  writer  of  mark, 
to  whom  an  introduction  could  be  got  for  you. — Perhaps 
if  the  Autumn  is  denied  to  me,  I  might  have  a  taste  of 
the  Riviera  in  the  winter.  I  was  there  the  year  before 
last  in  September.  Adieu.  My  warmest  wishes  and 
prayers  are  with  you. — Your  loving  father, 

George  Meredith. 

To  Arthur  0.  Meredith. 

Box  Hill,  Doeking,  August  5,  1881. 

My  dear  Arthur, — By  this  post  I  have  sent  you  a 
'  Fortnightly  Review '  containing  an  article  by  Grant 
-Vllcn,  a  writer  of  some  distinction,  upon  the  English  race. 
He  thinks  that  Celtic  blood  preponderates.  I  do  not, 
though  I  see  it  flooding.  To  mix  among  people  is  to 
have  another  lesson  by  experience. — However,  the  essay 
mav  be  of  use  to  you, 

I  rejoice  that  j'ou  have  flown,  and  am  as  glad  of  your 
release  as  if  I  had  personally  risen  singing  on  the  free 
air.  It  pleases  mc  to  think  of  your  visiting  old  Stuttgart 
and  meditating  on  youthful  impressions  there.  I  re- 
member regretting  your  aversion  to  Berne  ;  for  we  lose 
the  proper  sense  of  the  richness  of  life  if  we  do  not  look 

'  /vuthor  of  At  the  Back  of  the  North  Wind,  Annals  of  a  Quiet 
Neighbourhood,  etc. 


324         LETTERS  OF  GEORGE  MEREDITH 

back  on  scenes  of  our  youth  with  imaginative  warmth. — 
There  are  several  ways,  all  attractive,  of  entering  Tyrol 
from  the  basis  of  little  Constance.  Either  by  Munich 
and  Innsbriick,  or  from  Bregenz  over  the  Vorarlberg  and 
down  to  Stanger  Thai  to  Landeck — which  you  may  not 
have  quite  forgotten,  or  taking  the  rail  from  Lindau  to 
Kemp  ten,  through  Reutte  and  Lermoos  to  Nassereith  in 
the  Oberinnthal,  a  day's  walk  from  Innsbriick,  whence 
over  the  Brenner  to  Bozen,  where  you  command  routes  to 
the  Dolomites,  the  loveliest  scenes  in  Europe.  Should  you 
(and  I  not  with  you)  go  to  Cortina  d'Ampezzo,  you  will 
probably  meet  a  neighbour  of  mine  living  in  a  big  house 
on  Mickleham  Downs — a  IMr.  Dixon.  His  two  daughters 
are  with  him  ;  very  amiable,  rather  shy,  intelligent. 
He  is  an  enthusiastic  traveller  in  Italy  and  the  Alps 
of  old  date.  He  recommended  San  Martino — half  a  day 
from  Cortina  or  more — to  me  if  I  should  be  able  to 
come.  I  begin  to  have  a  touch  of  despair,  my  work  gets 
on  so  slowly,  and  I  must  hand  in  a  certain  quantity  by 
the  end  of  October.  If  not  this  Autumn,  I  may  be  at 
liberty  for  a  run  to  the  Riviera  in  the  winter.  But  I  dare 
not  project.  The  Fates  have  destined  me  for  a  cab-horse, 
and  I  find  myself  getting  the  jogging  soul  as  well  as  the 
pace  over  everlasting  sameness. — Give  my  warm  regards 
to  your  hostess,  my  compliments  to  her  husband.  A 
trip  to  the  Vosges  offers  good  prospects  for  walking.  I 
know  only  the  kind  of  scenery.  Communicate  with  me 
as  you  proceed,  but  let  the  wish  be  subordinate  to  your 
leisure. — By  the  way,  did  I  tell  you  of  my  receiving  a 
letter  from  one  signing  himself  Guglielmo  Meredith  Read 
Cabral,  claiming  mc  for  his  cousin  ?  He  writes  from 
Lisbon.  His  sister  married  Costa  Cabral  formerly  Prime 
Minister,  now  Marchese  and  Ambassador  of  Portugal  at 
Rome.     I  knew  of  them.     It  seems  that  Madame  Cabral 


LETTERS  OF  GEORGE  MEREDITH         325 

got  sight  of  one  or  other  of  my  works  and  hit  on  the  idea 
that  I  was  a  cousin  worth  noticing.  Of  course  I  wrote 
courteously,  and  groan  now  under  the  debt  of  another 
letter.  Adieu,  mj^  dear  boy.  Be  careful  of  your  health, 
and  do  not  relax  precautions  because  of  a  brave  spirit 
and  better  signs.  — Your  loving  father, 

George  Meredith. 

To  Admiral  2Iaxsc. 

Box  Hill,  Sept.  27,  18S1. 

My  dear  Fred, — You  are  always  kind,  and  I  should  be 
glad  to  come,  but  for  the  present  I  am  better  here. — I 
am  coming  round,  and  in  a  day  or  two  work  will  no  longer 
be  interdicted.  I  begin  to  feel  my  brain  once  more. — 
Your  mother  has  asked  me  to  spend  some  days  at  Effing- 
ham Hill  when  you  are  there.  This  will  suit  me — if  you 
can  make  up  your  mind  to  it.  I  had  to  leave  the  Hill 
on  Sunday,  as  I  was  not  fit  society  for  man  or  brute, 
scarce  for  myself  in  my  chalet.  Some  day  I  should  very 
much  like  to  visit  you  at  Eastbourne.  Adieu.  I  have 
many  letters  to  write,  and  can  hardly  get  through  with 
them. — Hardman  speaks  of  the  '  Penny  M.  Post '  as  an 
*  astounding  success,'  and  Sir  Algernon  as  the  Coming 
Millionaire.  What  English  public  would  not  pay  a 
penny  to  read  all  about  the  aristocracy  ! — Your  loving 

George  Meredith. 


To  M.  Andre  Raffahvich. 


Box  Hill,  Dorking, 
England,  2\ov.  7,  1S81. 


Sir, — I  have  been  absent  from  home  on  a  round  of 
visits,  and  I  beg  you  will  accept  it  as  my  apology  to 
you  for  the  backwardness  of  this  reply  to  your  letter. 
If  my  letters  were  commonly  of  so  pleasant  a  nature  I 


326         LETTERS  OF  GEORGE  MEREDITH 

should  give  the  order  when  leaving  home  for  them  to  be 
sent  in  pursuit  of  me. 

I  venture  to  judge  by  j^our  name  that  you  are  at  most 
but  half  English.  I  can  consequently  believe  in  tbo 
feeling  you  express  for  the  work  of  an  unpopular  writer. 
Otherwise  one  would  incline  to  be  sceptical,  for  the 
English  are  given  to  practical  jokes,  and  to  stir  up  the 
vanity  of  authors  who  are  supposed  to  languish  in  the 
shade  amuses  them.  There  is  en  revanche  great  en- 
thusiasm for  the  popular.  You  ha,ve  probably  had 
sufficient  experience  upon  these  points  from  the  Editors 
of  Reviews  to  whom  you  have  applied.  Your  apprecia- 
tion of  my  work  does  me  great  honour,  but  when  I  think 
of  your  wasting  time  in  the  effort  to  make  my  work  more 
widely  known,  I  am  distressed.  Good  work  has  a  fair 
chance  to  be  recognised  in  the  end,  and  if  not,  what  does 
it  matter  ?  The  only  concern  one  should  have  is  for 
the  personal  assurance  that  one  has  done  one's  best. 

Do  not  suppose  that  I  wish  to  chill  your  generous 
warmth.  I  am  touched  by  it,  and  so  much  that  I  could 
desire  it  to  have  a  worthier  object ;  for  a  man  capable 
of  admiring  as  you  appear  to  be,  should  have  but  our 
noblest  in  his  heart,  and  only  a  nod  of  encouragement 
for  members  of  the  lesser  order.  At  least  I  may  hope 
that  you  will  not  in  after  years  have  to  accuse  my  work 
of  vitiating  your  taste  for  higher  literature.  You  see,  I 
have  assumed  you  to  be  young  as  well  as  foreign  in  some 
degree.  Only  the  j^oung,  the  very  young,  and  the  quick 
of  blood  can  write  as  you  have  done.  Think  well  of  me 
for  as  long  as  you  are  able  to  without  repressing  your 
growing  capacity  for  criticism. 

I  am,  with  my  hearty  thanks  to  you  for  obeying  the 
good  impulse  to  write  to  me,  your  most  faithful  and 
obliged  George  Meredith. 


LETTERS  OF  GEORGE  MEREDITH         327 

To  Admiral  Maxse. 

Box  Hill,  Dec.  1,  1881. 

MydearFred, — It  is  distressing  news  of  the  Governor.^ 
I  had  fears  about  the  chmate.  Olive  "  has  vouth  in 
her  favour,  but  it  will  relieve  me  to  hear  that  she  is 
better. 

As  for  me,  I  am  heavily  struck,  improving  very  slowly, 
if  real  improvement  be  possible.  Hutchinson  seems  to 
understand  the  case,  but  whether  I  owe  my  present 
working  condition  to  medicine,  and  the  cessation  of  it 
wiU  leave  me  stranded,  I  can't  guess. 

The  name  *  Avalon  '  is  pretty.  I  like  it. — I  am  in  har- 
ness to  my  novel.  Poetry  comes  easier  than  prose  and 
bedevils  me.  If  I  could  work  longer  at  a  stretch  I  should 
the  sooner  get  released  and  have  a  chance  of  recovery. 

Let  me  see  you  when  you  come  to  Effingham.  Perhaps 
you  will  give  me  a  bed  one  night  in  London,  some  time 
in  January  or  the  next  month. 

Morley  seems  to  me  very  spirited — keen  of  brain.  He 
also  has  his  physical  trials,  I  regret  to  think,  but  gout 
is  a  good-natured  giant  to  contend  with,  on  the  whole — 
or  that  is  my  view.  I  hope  you  are  fairly  well. — Your 
loving  George  M. 

To  Admiral  Maxse. 

Box  Hill,  Dec.  26,  1881. 

My  dear  Fred, — I  have  the  ill-luck  to  be  engaged  to 
dinner-tables  in  the  valley — have  had  also  to  write  to 
Morley  of  a  previous  engagement  to  the  Board,  where 
we  sit  like  convicts — fine  specimens  of  the  Joy  of  earth, 

^  Admiral  Maxse's  elder  brother,  Sir  Fitzhardinge  Maxse,  had  been 
Governor  of  Heligoland,  and  was  Governor  of  Newfoundland  at  that 
time. 

*  Miss  Maxse,  elder  daughter  of  Admiral  Maxae. 


328         LETTERS  OF  GEORGE  MEREDITH 

with  every  fruit  of  earth  to  excite.     But  Soul  is  wanting 
here. 

Telegraph  the  hour  in  the  afternoon  when  one  may 
find  you  at  Dorking  Station  ;  I  may  see  you  for  half  an 
hour. — Brighton  did  me  good  service.  If  I  had  leisure 
and  could  find  liveliness,  I  think  I  might  come  round, — 
Your  loving  George  Meredith. 

To  Admiral  Maxse. 

Box  Hill,  Dec.  27,  1881. 

My  dear  Fred, — I  have  sent  a  letter  to  Rutland,  but 
have  heard  sub  sequent  I}''  that  we  had  no  Post  out  on 
Boxing  Day. — We  are  heavil}'  bound  to  the  people  here 
by  engagements  to  dine  with  them.  The  fever  of  hos- 
pitality lasts  till  the  end  of  next  week.  I  wish  I  could 
be  with  you  at  Effingham.  However,  I  am  decidedly 
better.  Brighton  served  me  well.  The  air  blew  in  from 
sea,  and  I  was  on  pier  or  parade  all  the  hours  of  light/ — 
and  not  using  my  pen.  The  translation  shall  be  attended 
to. — I  will  meet  you  on  Thursday  at  the  top  of  Cubitt's 
Avenue.  Further  I  shall  not  be  able  to  drag  my  legs, 
as  the  malady  seems  to  be  nervous,  affecting  the  spine, 
and  I  begin  to  feel  my  legs  labouring  after  an  hour  of 
motion. — I  have  had  curious  letters  from  a  Russian,  who 
has  written  on  my  books  in  the  '  Journal  de  St.  Peters- 
bourg  '  and  the  '  Gaulois  '  :  a  M.  Andre  Raffalovich.  Is  it 
perchance  you  who  have  put  him  on  me  ? — Reply  as  to 
our  meeting,  and  appoint  to  meet  as  near  my  cottage  as 
you  can.  Olive,  I  hope,  is  going  on  favourably.  Sorry 
to  miss  a  sight  of  the  boys.  Present  my  respects  very 
warmly  to  my  lady. — Your  loving 

George  Meredith. 

end  of  vol.  1 


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